Oh You Didn't Know? Yeah, He's Awesome
by RuRuLaLa
Summary: Remember Goblet of Fire? What would happen if Harry took the filter off his mouth and actually said what he's thinking? Bad things, probably. But it'll be fun as hell. My go at the Intelligent!Harry, Smart alec!Harry situation.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Oh You Didn't Know? Yeah, He's Awesome

**Rating**: T – M

Genre: Humor/Adventure/Drama

**Pairings**: None yet

**Warning**: Some Violence. Explicit Language. SLASH. Movie and Book verse mixed and matched

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. All rights reserved to J.K. Rowling

**Summary**: Remember Goblet of Fire? What would happen if Harry took the filter off his mouth and actually said what he's thinking? Bad things, probably. But it'll be fun as hell. My go at the Intelligent!Harry, Smart alec!Harry situation.

**~oOo~**

**Chapter 1**

"No."

"C'mon Harry!" A random Gryffindor who had never spoken to him before in his life exclaimed. "This is your celebration mate! You've gotta have a few drinks at least."

"No. Going to bed. Bye."

Harry Potter weaved through the crowd, despite all manner of protests and cajoling and "come on Harry live a little, you're our Champion!"…ing.

He had to deal with a tremendous amount of stupid in the past hour and right now his brain needed to rest or he swore to Jesus Merlin and David Bowie that he was going to take a wrench to someone's knee cap!

It was dark when he opened the door to the Fourth Year boy's dormitory, and at first Harry thought he was going to be able to go to sleep in peace and pretend that none of this bullcrap was happening for a few hours more –

"So…how did you do it?"

Oh for fuck sakes, _why_?

Harry turned to the bed next to his, slowly with slumped shoulders as if they were being weighed down by dumbbells, and faced the sullen countenance of his best friend Ron. He leaned against his bed post and stared at him.

"Never mind," said Ron, low and resentful and just waiting to burst with all kinds of negative things left unsaid during their friendship. "Doesn't matter. You could have let your best friend know though."

There was a long pause. Ron was a tightly coiled orange ball of angry, his lips twitching with a million rebuttals at the tip of his tongue. All he needed was for his supposed best friend to get the ball rolling with a denial (_Che! Why even bother with it?_) and he could really lay into him.

"…I'm going to die in 24 days."

Ron gaped at him.

"Goodnight."

Before his friend could gather himself and respond to that non sequitur Harry climbed into his bed and drew the curtains closed. For a few moments he just stared at the ceiling. He covered his face with his hands and let out a long shuddering sigh.

"I'm so fucked."

**~oOo~**

The next day dawned idiotic. The boy's dorm was empty, best friend included, and when he checked the time it showed he had 30 minutes before breakfast was over. Yay.

Harry hurried through his shower and usual morning rituals and made it to the Great Hall with 20 minutes left to spare. Ron was chatting it up with Seamus and Dean, and studiously ignoring him with the exception of a few confused/resentful looks thrown his way. Well, at least his ever so profound statement last night seemed to have gotten to Ron somewhat. Maybe this was a sign that he would get over himself in the near future?

Nah, too easy. That would be no fun.

He saw Hermione in her usual spot. She had a book in hand but kept glancing back and forth between the large tome and the Great Hall main entrance, so she was most likely retaining nothing. When he got close enough he tapped her on the right shoulder and quickly slid in the seat next to her left.

Hermione jumped and whirled to the right comically, before turning to him with an exasperated look. "Honestly, Harry."

Harry merely grinned, unrepentant. He grabbed a bowl of cereal, then pushed it aside. Damn, he never had an appetite when he was nervous and agitated.

"Why are you here so late anyway? Breakfast is almost over."

"Oh yeah, you can thank Best Friend for that," he picked up a piece of toast and tried his best to nibble on it. "He accidently on purpose forgot to wake me up this morning."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Yes, about that." She gathered up her things and closed her book with a snap. Uh oh, serious talk. "Take a walk with me, would you Harry?"

Harry grabbed his bag as well, the toast left behind as a lost cause. "Lead the way m'lady."

They walked down the corridors at a slow pace. Occasionally they would pass by students from the other Houses who would glare at Harry or whisper something snide and unimpressive to their friends about him. Oh _dearest_ Hogwarts. Never change.

"Just ignore them Harry," Hermione whispered when a couple of Ravenclaws gave a particularly obnoxious laugh and sneered in his direction.

"Not to worry, lovey. I've got my _Ignore Pretentious Douchebag_ glasses on today." He waggled his glasses up and down with a silly smile. "I'm impervious to all insult."

Hermione chuckled at his antics. "Well I just wanted to let you know that I believe you didn't put your name in the Cup."

"Yay."

"And Ron, well…I know he would believe you but he's being…difficult right now."

"Boo."

"Be serious Harry!"

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Look I already know what Ron's problem is; he's jealous about all the money I have and the sudden attention that just seems to have fallen in my lap, and he's insecure that with someone like me as his friend and with all the accomplishments his brothers have achieved that he'll never amount to anything that will equal and or surpass those achievements. On top of all that he's going through puberty and male hormones can make you into a regular asshole at the drop of a dime. And I understand that."

"You do?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah, I gathered as much when he got all moody when I was trying to buy him that hat at the World Cup. But I'm also slightly _irritated_," Harry said the word through gritted teeth, his fists clenched so hard that they were turning purple, "that he's having this little coming of age bitch fest when I'm about to get _killed_ for some crap I didn't even sign up for."

Hermione gazed at him thoughtfully and with not a little shock. Harry supposed she hadn't expected him to be so intuitive. Not her fault, he usually preferred to keep most of his insight to himself. "I guess you have a point," she said slowly. "I'll try to work on Ron –"

"Oh nu nu nu nu nu," Harry hurriedly cut her off. "_Do not_ try to work on Ron."

"But Harry –"

"No, Hermione, listen to me here. The more you try to convince him he's being ridiculous the more he's going to think you're on my side and then he'll get all pissy at _you_ and then he'll be even more stubborn and it'll take _longer_ for him to apologize or forgive us or ah…whatever, he'll start talking to us is what I mean.

"So just…do what you always do."

"And that _is_?"

"Be our amazingly smart best friend." Before she could say anything more he tapped her lightly on the nose so that her chocolate brown eyes crossed, "Gotta send a letter to Snuffles, see you in class, lovey." And he was off to the Owlery, whistling a purposely loud jaunty tune. Hopefully Sirius would be able to offer some useful advice in this increasingly mad, mad world.

**~oOo~**

Aside from the glares and jeering, classes went on as normal. McGonagall was strict, fair and tartan clad; Flitwick was tiny and awesome; and Moody was creepy yet effective…and giving off massive serial killer vibes, but people couldn't help how they were born.

Hagrid had them play with their Blast-Ended Skrewts for the day. Harry found he had a better time handling them this time around. Despite having no eyes the scorpion-crab thingys seemed to loath the color puce (side note: this may be why they kept trying to kill each other. Harry made sure to let Hagrid know that.), so Harry charmed his cloak the nauseating color and did a little _corrida de toros_ footwork to herd the mistake-of-nature back into its crate.

"Aww, you're kinda cute when you're not touching me," Harry cooed as he peered at the creature over the edge of the crate. At a safe distance, mind you.

"Well done Harry! Five points ter Gryffindor," Hagrid said cheerily as he came up behind him, handling a comically small clipboard in his large hands. "Le's see here. I'll jus' mark yeh full credit fer the day ah…hang on a tick…" He poked his tongue out as he pinched the equally small quill between his thumb and forefinger and tried to scribble something down with awkwardly slow movements.

After a few seconds of this, Harry couldn't take it anymore and took out his wand. "Wait Hagrid, I'll fix that for you. _Engorgio_…just tell me when," he said as the clipboard and such expanded to Hagrid appropriate proportions.

"That'll do Harry. Thanks for that. Would've done it meself but I don' have the same finesse with me wand, ya know?" The large man said sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it Hagrid," Harry said with a genuine smile for his first friend.

"So, how've yeh been holdin' up? Since after everythin' that happen' las' nigh', I mean?"

"Aside from everyone thinking I'm a glory hound?" Harry said as he gently prodded his skrewt with a stick. It made a weird little purring sound and swayed side to side in response, kind of like a cat would after you scratched their sweet spot. "Eh, could be worse."

"Well, _I_ believe yeh didn't put yer name in the cup Harry, an' anyone who don't is a right idiot."

"Yes they are Hagrid," Harry said clearly so that Ron, who was struggling to maneuver his skrewt back into its crate by poking it with a stick (from the way it was hissing he _was not_ hitting its sweet spot), could hear. He gazed at the redhead unblinkingly with no expression on his face. Ron tried to match his stare with a glare of his own, but a ball of flames erupting onto his leg from his skrewt's nether regions quickly drew his attention elsewhere. "I suddenly want lobster for dinner."

"Wha's eh?" Hagrid asked, understandably confused.

"Never mind. Should I go help around with the other students?"

Hagrid beamed at him. "That would be great Harry! Dunno why no one's got the hang of 'em yet, they're real peaceful like creatures – "

"Eeeeeeek! I'm on fire!" Lavender Brown squealed, while Parvati screamed and cursed incoherently next to her.

"I'll get it," Harry sighed as he pulled out his wand and started to jog towards the flailing girls. "Stop drop and roll ladies!"

Herbology would have gone on just fine if Professor Sprout hadn't given Harry the stink eye all class, but even that wasn't out of the Hogwarts norm. He remembered her being all catty towards him during the Chamber of Secrets debacle back in his Second Year, ignoring all his questions and just being a passive aggressive bitch in general.

All right! Let's give a hand for adults being reasonable and mature in situations that call for it. Clap, clap, clap, clap, cuuuuuh – lap.

And speaking of reasonable and mature…Potions class was up next.

Normally Harry tried to get to Potions at the very last minute, as it gave him the illusion that the class time would be shortened. Today he got there a little early and was met with the Slytherins lined up outside the classroom door, giggling like school girls over some large badges pinned to their robes.

In bright red letters in some rather unflattering font, each button read: SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY - The Real Hogwarts Champion.

"Like them, Potter?" Malfoy said, smirking. "And that's not all they do - look!"

He pressed the badge and the first message disappeared, only to be replaced with the words POTTER STINKS! The taller teen laughed uproariously along with his Housemates; their badges a sea of glowing green irritation.

Harry bent a little and squinted at the badge, waggling his glasses as if he was trying to see it better. "Oh! Uh oh. Looks like you got a typo here. Mind if I take a gander at it?"

Malfoy glanced behind him to exchange snickers with his friends. "Of course Potter. In fact, you can keep it. I can always get another one from someone else, since _everybody_has one now."

"Well isn't that just perfect," Harry said in a distracted deadpan, his full attention on the badge. He tapped his wand on the button and muttered a spell, then calmly pinned it to his robe.

SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY, it read in much, much prettier font. A few seconds later the words disappeared on their own and displayed: _And His Tight Ass_.

"Hey!" Goyle exclaimed as his badge too showed the new motto. The other Slytherins grabbed their lapels and pressed their badges over and over (the guys more furiously than the Slytherinettes), as if that would somehow change the words back to the original insult.

"Whoa! Guys…I didn't know you were such avid Cedric fans. I mean, I know I am, but my admiration is kinda in the illegal gray area if you know what I mean…"

"How did you – that's impossible!" Malfoy sputtered.

"Yeah," Harry chuckled, "no it's not."

"You have to change it back!"

"What?"

"Change it back!"

"Change what now?"

Malfoy was quickly turning a bedazzling shade of puce. Harry hoped there weren't any blast-ended skrewts around. Oh wait. That was a mistake. He did hope there were blast-ended skrewts around. "If you don't change them back, Potter, I'm going to –"

"Wait, wait! Hold on!"

"What!" Malfoy spat through gritted teeth.

"I've suddenly lost all interest in what you're saying."

That puce color was now slipping into a bright red (aww, sorry skrewts), and as Malfoy pulled out his wand, Harry's Year mates chose that moment to arrive.

"Looky Hermione. I just got me a pressie!"

"What…Harry!" Hermione's eyes bugged out as she caught sight of the badge. "_Where did you get that!?_"

Harry pointed at Malfoy. "He gave it to me."

Hermione eyed Malfoy up and down with eyebrows raised. "Really? It all makes sense now…"

"I didn't – I mean, he's the one who changed it! I didn't put that there!"

"This is all starting to sound deliciously suggestive," Harry chimed in.

Malfoy made a little high pitched, animalistic noise that sounded like "GaaaaaahRAHHH!" but before he could turn his rage into a curse, Professor Snape flounced – stalked!- stalked down the corridor and barked for them to get inside.

From there Potions class went on as normal, with the lesson plan that day consisting of them making antidotes for the various poisons Snape was going to make them drink – ya know, for life experience and such. Snape was a grouch to the Gryffindors and praised the Slytherins, with a sprinkle of baiting Harry every now and then. A key difference was the Slytherin's lack of sabotaging the Gryffindor potions, what with being tied up trying to discreetly change their badges back to normal.

You're welcome, Gryffindor.

Halfway through the class Colin Creevey burst into the room…and almost wet himself at the look Snape gave him for his noisy entrance.

"Ah, hello sir. I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs."

"And this can't wait until after class?" Snape bit out.

"S-sorry sir, Mr. Bagman said it has to be now. It's Tournament business."

The classroom suddenly broke out into excited whispers, with the exception of Ron who was sulking and Hermione who did not break out into excited _anything_ in class unless it involved a new lesson.

"Quiet!" Snape barked. He gave Colin a mean stare that spelled eternity of detention if this was some kind of trick. "Put your bag aside Potter, I want you back down later to test your antidote –"

"Actually sir, Mr. Bagman said they were going to be a while so Harry's going to need his bag…sir," Colin added with a gulp.

"Darn it and I really wanted to get poisoned today, too." Harry quickly packed up his bag and started heading out the door before Snape could take points from him because of Colin's existence. "Can't keep the Bag Man waiting, though. Toodles all!"

On the way there Harry wasn't able to get much information about what Bagman wanted with him (the Third Year was too busy fawning and indiscreetly trying to figure out how he put his name in the Goblet), just that he and the other Champions were meeting up for something. Helpful.

The meeting was taking place in one of Hogwarts' many unused classrooms. Cedric, Delacour and Krum were already there, along with Bagman who was schmoozing with Karkaroff, Dumbledore and Madame Maxime. Ollivander – Einstein hair wearing, _riddle me this_for no reason – Ollivander, sat behind a desk up front. As well as a man with a camera and a tackily dressed woman that he didn't recognize who was shimmying about the room, firing off questions at people. Her eyes caught his, and a wide, bright pink lipstick colored, smile stretched across her face with nothing but predatory intent.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, _DAMN_!

"AH! Our infamous Fourth Champion has finally arrived!" She sashayed up to him and clasped his wrist, her well-manicured nails an acid green. Argh! _It burnsssss usssss!_ "Now we can really get started. Here now, let's go somewhere more comfortable..."

Harry looked to the _claw_ grasping his hand, then to the smiling woman, then to the people around the room. "I need an adult!"

Her hand was off him in a second after that exclamation. The other occupants of the room looked at them curiously. Bagman took that moment to stroll over, speaking to Harry in that inappropriately familiar voice of his. "Harry! I see you've met Rita Skeeter already. She'll be doing a small piece on the Tournament for the Daily Prophet."

"Y-yes, yes," she said, having gathered herself enough to strike again. "And I was just about to have a little word with Harry before we started – if that's alright?"

"Certainly! That would be –"

"I will _not_ be alone with her." Harry took a deliberately large step next to Bagman. He stood by him and gave Skeeter an exaggerated up and down look. "My body is a temple _Madame_."

Skeeter sputtered wildly, while Bagman was giving her a suspicious look of his own. "Just what were you saying to him, Rita?"

It took a moment for Skeeter to gather herself, and once she did she fairly had to slap the smile back onto her expression. "Ah ha ha ha, Ludo! Isn't the boy just darling…and such a kidder too! Our youngest Champion is quite the character, eh?" Harry had to give the cougar credit – she was persistent as fuck. "Now about that talk – "

"There will be no talking unless there are witnesses."

"The Weighing of the Wand Ceremony is about to start, we'll just have you talk to all the Champions afterwards, ahem… together," said Bagman, giving Skeeter another suspicious look before guiding Harry to the seats with the other Champions.

Whew! Dodged a bullet there. Harry distinctly remembered that article about the International Confederation of Wizards' Conference and _somehow_ he doubted that Dumbledore would call himself an 'obsolete dingbat'.

Yeah, Rita Skeeter could take that Quick Quotes Quill of hers and shove it right up her hoo-ha, thanks much.

Harry sidled down next to Cedric and gave him a winning smile. "How's it going C. D.?"

Cedric looked at him confusedly. Well, the Hufflepuff hadn't exactly made the best impression last night, but it wasn't like he had known him for four years and went on life bonding adventures together and was his god damn best friend – you know what, it's ok. Don't get your blood pressure rising now, Harry. Fucking Ron.

"Oh, hey…" Cedric caught sight of his badge and did a double take. "What the hell is that thing!? Where did you get that!?"

"Malfoy gave it to me."

"Malfoy! That little scumbag –"

Harry gave the badge a fond look. "I like it because it's true."

"_What_!?" Cedric shrieked, only half manly-like.

Harry just gave the older boy's chestnut colored hair a caress. "_Shhhhhhhhhh,_" he whispered soothingly. "It's ok. The ceremony is about to start."

"BUT – "

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander," Dumbledore spoke from his position by the other judges. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the Tournament."

Harry snorted. Ha! _Wands_. Good one.

"Is everything all right Harry?"

"I just have a feeling that Cedric's wand is in _perfect_ condition, sir."

Cedric flushed scarlet, while Delacour giggled softly. Even Krum had to cover his laughter with a cough. The other judges just looked agitated at being interrupted. Old fogies.

"Ah, that's very kind of you Harry," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. Hmmm, did he get the joke, or did he not get the joke? He probably did. He was cool like that.

The ceremony pretty much was what it sounded like; Ollivander would look at their wands, describe its contents, then criticize their lack of proper maintenance. Ahhhh, if only Ollivander knew what Harry's poor wand had been through, the places it had been shoved, the sights it could not unsee. He would be appalled. Hell, he would probably call social services on him for it. Harry knew he would deserve it.

Anyway. The whole thing couldn't have lasted more than thirty minutes. Dumbledore was all for sending them off to dinner, but then Bagman (unfortunately) reminded them about the photos. It took a lot longer than it needed to. Madame Maxime's height kept casting shadows on everyone, and on top of that the camera man couldn't figure out how to get her in the picture with everyone else. Not one to let an opportunity slide by, Harry went up to him and peered over his shoulder.

"Try tilting it a little…no, no that way, yes – wait, a little to the left –"

"Like this?"

"Almost – no, hang on. Mind if I give it a go um…?"

"Carl."

"Carl, brilliant. One of my neighbors is named Carl – he stuffed me into a basketball hoop – good times. Do you mind?"

Carl the photographer handed him the camera. "Everybody smile!" Harry tilted the camera just so and snapped a few shots. "See that? It gives it a bit of an artistic angle and gets everybody in."

"Ahhh, very nice," Carl said slowly, nodding. "I'll have ta try that one."

Harry snapped off several more pictures, moving about the room, even standing on top of the judges desk. "That's it you guys, let's get some more smiles….Oooh Fleur, I like that pout, do it again…yeah, like that! Work it girl! Ok Krum, let's see some fierceness in your eyes…or… maybe that's just your default expression – that's alright though! Oi, Ced! Give us a twirl would you…yes it's necessary…those glutes beg to be on camera…what are you talking about? I didn't say anything! Just smile and look pretty. Okay, one more group shot, you too Carl…one, two, three, _cheese_! Alright people, I think that's a wrap."

The emerald eyed youth checked his watch as he absently tossed Carl the camera back. "Oh would you look at that! Only five minutes 'till dinner! We'd best be off then – us Champions won't grow big and strong without their nourishment."

"Now wait a moment Harry!" Skeeter called after him. "There's still the interview, and you aren't in any of the pictures –"

But Harry was already half way out the door, bag slung over his shoulder and giving a wave without turning around. "Just Photoshop me in or something – later all!"

"Yes, that sounds easy enough," Carl said. "Eh…does anyone know where the nearest Photo shop is?"

"You certainly won't find it in Hogsmead," Dumbledore chimed in cheerfully. "But there is this delightful little curio shop that sells picture frames that always have something derogatory to say about your in-laws."

Rita Skeeter simply shook her head, "Round one to you, Potter. But the battle isn't over, not by half."

**End Chapter**

**~oOo~**

End Notes: Yes, I'm using "ass" instead of "arse". There will be more British – American idioms used in the right and wrong context throughout the fic. Can't help it, I think it's funny.

Sooooooooooo, this popped in my head. Dunno if I'll continue it, but we'll see.

Like it? Hate it? Tell me about!


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Oh You Didn't Know? Yeah, He's Awesome

**Rating**: T – M

Genre: Humor/Adventure/Drama

**Pairings**: None yet

**Warning**: Some Violence. Explicit Language. SLASH. Movie and Book verse mixed and matched

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. All rights reserved to J.K. Rowling

**Summary**: Remember Goblet of Fire? What would happen if Harry took the filter off his mouth and actually said what he's thinking? Bad things, probably. But it'll be fun as hell. My go at the Intelligent!Harry, Smart alec!Harry situation.

**~oOo~**

**Chapter 2**

The next few days were very similar; the students, aside from Gryffindor, were still mindlessly calling him names, the teachers were still looking at him sketchy, and friggin' Ron was still giving him the silent treatment. Worse than that, Hermione wasn't spending as much time with him because she didn't want to get on Ron's bad side either, and therefore wouldn't be able to convince him that he needed to make up with Harry…or something.

It all would have been hell for Harry if not for two things. One; that stupid article was released the day after the Wand Weighing and there wasn't a single photo of him in there. The little blurb about the Champions was just that – a little blurb. Maybe Harry's part was a tad longer, but it was all speculative and there was nothing written that everybody else didn't already know – orphaned by You-Know-Who, raised by muggles, returned to the wizarding world at eleven years old, etcetera, etcetera. Heh, suck it Rita Skeeter.

And two; the _Support Cedric Diggory_ badges.

"Damnit! No matter what I do the stupid thing won't change back! I've tried everything!"

"Why don't you just get a new one? I'm sure they all can't be hexed like that."

Two words: Challenge Accepted.

"Argghhh! The new ones sparkle and kissy marks appear all over it and – argh! It's singing!"

"_My humps! My humps, my humps, my humps! My lovely lady lumps! Check it out!"_ **(1)**

"It won't stop!"

"What the hell is a 'hump'?"

"Get it off me! _GET IT OFF ME!"_

Hehhehheh! Ain't magic just the bestest?

By the middle of the next week after TGF-Day (The Goblet's Fuck-up), Harry finally received a response from Sirius, which pretty much asked if he could set up a secret rendezvous in the Gryffindor common room on November 22nd. He had to read the note a few times before burying his face in his hands. Oh, God…Dammit Sirius. Had Harry given off the impression that he was James Bond at some point? How the hell was he supposed to make sure that _no one_ came down to the common room, from the portrait entrance and from the dorms!? He supposed he could…set up an alarm or some shit, but it might look a mite bit suspicious if a bloke came down the stairs to take a piss only to have the piss scared out of him. Maybe he could try warding the area, or an illusion – gah! Sirius was supposed to be helping him, not giving him a bigger headache!

"Potter!"

And speaking of headaches…

"'Lo Malfoy. How are you today?"

Malfoy, his ride-or-die bitches Crabbe and Goyle flanking him, stopped short at the polite greeting. Harry took this time to shove Sirius' note in his back pocket while muttering a spell that would wipe away its contents. Can't let anything so implicating fall into the wrong, snotty, hands now can he?

"You think you're real funny, don't you?" Malfoy said once he recovered. They were just outside the Great Hall doors and students from all the Houses were starting to gather around them. Didn't they have better things to do than stand around and watch the latest Malfoy vs. Harry spectacle?

Right, stupid question.

"Not really," Harry sighed, "no one ever gets my jokes. But I suppose you were talking about something specific…?"

"You think you're so _clever_ with that pathetic little trick you did with the badges. Well everyone knows what you really are," the Slytherin continued, practically spitting every word, "an attention seeking show off that uses their fame to get whatever they want. Well guess what, Potter? None of your unearned fame is going to save you from this. Wizards a hundred times greater than you have been killed in this Tournament, and you don't even have a _wisp_ of their power. I bet you'll be nothing but a spot of mess on the ground five minutes into the First Task."

There wasn't a sound after Malfoy's cruel words. Students waited with baited breath to see how Harry would respond, while Malfoy smirked in triumph.

Harry pointed at the blonde's chest, where one of the newer Support Cedric/And His Tight Ass buttons was pinned. "Can I trade you badges? I like the sparkly ones better."

Malfoy flushed that ever so lovely fire hydrant red he tended to do when he was angry. A couple of students chuckled hesitantly, some looked to their peers in confusion, while others grumbled about their own badges – which now had cute little pink Koala bears snuffling equally cute little kittens. See that! Nobody ever gets his jokes.

The smaller teen raised his hands in surrender, starting to head towards the Great Hall for lunch. "Fine, fine! Keep it! No need to get your penis in a twist, sheesh."

"Don't turn your back on me, Potter!"

"Doing it."

Harry knew what Malfoy would do next, despite all the witnesses and the fact that a teacher could walk in at any moment. The blond was already high strung when he was giving his little speech, and Harry's blasé reaction had only infuriated him more. Here he was, walking away from a fight after a silly comment, and the immediate response is to flip out and start hexing people. Honestly, Harry just couldn't win.

So when he sidestepped out of the way of Malfoy's spell Harry flicked his wrist so that his wand shot out of his sleeve. He made to turn around and send off some calming spell that would force the Slytherin to chill the fuck out long enough for Harry to grab a sandwich, but then a loud BANG sounded and a roar echoed throughout the Hall.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Professor Moody was clump-clumping down the marble staircase like a bat out of hell. His wand was out and pointed at a white ferret that was shivering on the flag stone floor where Malfoy used to – _Oh no_.

The ferret made some pitiful high pitched noises. It took one look at the looming form of Mad-Eye Moody and hightailed it towards the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" growled Moody, pointing his wand at the terrified rodent. Much to the horror of the students and Harry, the ferret flew into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

Before he could send the boy-turned-ferret into another bounce, Harry sprinted towards them and caught Malfoy midair, gently cradling him in his arms. The little creature was shaking horribly, his heart pounding so fast that Harry could feel it against his bicep. He had his furry head buried into the crook of his arm, so scared apparently that he probably had no idea just who he was cuddling in to.

"Hang on lad! I wasn't finished teaching – "

"What the crikey man! _Why would you do that!?_" Harry exclaimed, the last part coming out shrilly.**(2)**

The students, who had been previously gaping in terror at the spectacle, were now back to gaping at Harry in confusion.

"Relax Potter," Moody said in that growly voice of his that did nothing to sooth anyone's nerves. "You didn't see it, but the little coward had his wand drawn at you when your back was turned."

Harry stared at the ex-Aurror with incredulous eyes. "_So_! He's fourteen! The worst he could do is – is shave my head or make my shoes tap dance or some inane crap like that."

"You don't know his kind like I do. Who knows what that father of his taught him, or what they're learnin' in those Dungeons. Better safe than sorry, lad. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

"_Nooooo_, no Constant Vigilance," Harry said slowly. "You are a _teacher_. You do not turn your students into small animals and smack the shit out of them. He's _stupid_, not a criminal."

Ferret-Malfoy took that moment to pop his head out of Harry's arms and glare at him, chattering some nonsense that the Boy-Who-Lived could tell were curses.

"Hey, it's either me or him, blondie." Harry shook his head and sighed. Did he just lecture a Professor and talk to a ferret in one sitting? This day was getting suckier and suckier. "Right, so, I'm going to take Moron to the Hospital Wing…"

Moody started to limp towards him. Malfoy burrowed himself as far into Harry's arms as he could, only his fluffy tale showing. "Just a minute Potter, you don't know –"

"Alastor!" The wispy voice of Professor Trelawney caused everyone to turn their attention to the dungeon entrance. What cooky shut in Sybill Treylawney was doing in the dungeons was anyone's guess, but she couldn't have popped up at a more convenient time. The self-proclaimed Diviner glided towards Moody, one hand clutching her chest while the other pointed at Moody dramatically. "Thank the stars I've found you! I've searched high and low through the castle to share the warning my Inner Eye has bestowed upon me!"

"Why didn't the Inner Eye tell you where he was?" some third year muttered.

"Sybill," Moody's normal growly voice sounded more like the whiney groan of a teenager, "now's really not the time."

"I'm sorry Alastor," Trelawney said, peering seriously at him over her large bi-focal glasses, "but FATE waits for no man…"

Harry spared a brief glance at his two most insane teachers before heading towards the Infirmary. Thankfully Madam Pomfrey was already there, fixing the covers on one of the beds.

"Special delivery," Harry deadpanned, holding Malfoy forward under his furry little arms.

Madam Pomfrey looked at the creature with raised eyebrows. "I'm sorry Mr. Potter, but I think you'd be better off taking your pet to the clinic in Hogsmead. Now is it an emergency, dear? I can write you a note –"

"Ah, Malfoy's not really my type Madam Pomfrey…not that I'm in to that kind of thing," Harry said, his eyes shifting to the left briefly.

The school nurse blinked at him a few times before something in his sentence seemed to finally register, as she looked at the ferret with renewed alarm. "Are you saying – is that a student!"

Harry set Malfoy on the bed, sighing out his explanation, "Ok, long story short; Malfoy tried to curse me, Professor Moody got trigger happy, transfigured him into a ferret, and now here we are. You can change him back, can't you? Because it's ok if you can't."

Malfoy gave an angry squeak, which Harry took to mean "fuck off!" or its Malfoyneese-equivalent of the term.

"That man," Pomfrey tutted, "always Curses first, ask questions later…yes he can be changed back. I'll have to find Minerva though…"

"Yay! I'm going to lunch now, bye!"

He barely turned around before –_RING! _The school bell screeched its unearthly tone throughout the castle.

Harry _thunked_ his head against the bed post. "Noooo, my sandwich," he whined faintly. "Madam Pomfrey, you wouldn't happen to have a 'bludgeon to the head', would you?

"What –!"

"Headache Draught?"

"Um, certainly dear," she said, casting him a worried look as she handed the potion over. "Are you feeling quite alright, Mr. Potter? Perhaps you may want to stay overnight?"

"No." He pushed himself off the post with great reluctance. "It's fine – too much work to do…homework to be done, Tournament's to die in – the usual. Have a good day ma'am." And before she could stop him for his morbid comment, he was out the door.

Madam Pomfrey sighed wearily. "Poor boy. I do worry about him." She turned to Malfoy and gave a cheerful clap of her hands. "Right then! Let's prep you for Minerva. I must say Mr. Malfoy, but you make an adorable albino ferret."

"Squeak!" Malfoy said indignantly.

"Now where did I put that large needle with the sleeping potion in it?"

"_SQUEAK_!?"

**~oOo~**

As a silent thank you for Trelawney's timely arrival that day, Harry made his predictions for his future especially gruesome and stupid. In one entry he had his throat being slit via a freak cheese grating accident, and another told a long woeful story of his adopting a wild gerbil that could not get over its trauma and ended up killing Harry in a fit of delusion, and then later itself once it became lucid again. In fact, he was scheduled to be thrown off the Astronomy Tower by a rouge gorilla the day before the First Task.

"Oh _dear_," Trelawney said during class, woe in her voice and happiness in her eyes. "It seems your Inner Eye is _especially_ open lately."

Harry nodded solemnly. "I put glasses on it last week…had to cut it into a monocle." At Trelawney's confused look he added, "Metaphorically speaking, of course."

"Ah yes! Sometimes the Inner Eye speaks to us in a language that is _beyond_ our simple minds' comprehension. Our Harry makes a good point, students. Take a note that the linguistic arts are doorways to our future as well…"

Harry studied in the rest of his classes with a renewed fervor…well the useful classes anyway. Frankly, Divination was an exercise in creative writing and Care of Magical Creatures was exercise period (no offense to Hagrid or anything). After class he would go to the library, where he would scour any book that had information on defensive or offensive magic. He tried looking up past Triwizard Tournaments as well, hoping to get some hint on what to expect from the Three Tasks. Sadly there wasn't any specific book dedicated to the Tournament, only other texts giving brief blurbs on its history of having a high death toll of both Champions and audience members.

Nothing new there, then.

He did find that the First Task tested your valor in facing the unknown, the Second Task tested your intellect in the face of limited knowledge, and the Third Task tested your overall skills…and that was it.

Mmmkay! Just take it one step at a time – much like Petunia would say to Dudley as a child and not Harry 'cause she was a cantankerous ho bag. First Task equals valor which equals bravery which equals…fighting? Maybe a battle royal? That would be brutal sure, but something like that didn't constitute a lot of bravery. Maybe he had to fight a monster? Pretty old school, but who knew with wizards. Well, there was no point in strategizing on a bunch of theories. All he could do at this point was prepare for the horrific and hope he only came out a tiny bit maimed.

Yeah, despite all his hollering about getting killed, he didn't actually _want_ to die. He just didn't have very high expectations on his survival. Not his fault being realistic coincided with being suicidal.

The new regimen he had himself on – going to class, reading new spells, practicing said spells, banging his head against the table at the stupidity of humanity in general – did not leave a lot of room for other things. Like say, sleeping and eating.

One night, as Harry was perusing over '_600 Dirty Curses and Jinxes That Will Prevent Your Hiney From Being Handed To You_' he heard a strange little rattling sound. He looked down and saw the hand holding the page he was about to turn was shaking. He brought it up to his face with a frown, finally noticing how thin his arm had gotten. Aw dammit! He lost all his healthy Hogwarts meat. He _really_ needed that weight too. Thanks to the Dursley's fine dining and reasonable eating regimen (read: nothing and never) Harry was always teetering on dangerously underweight. Which in turn made him prone to getting sick and having other life threatening long term ailments. There wasn't even a hope for his height anymore. Thanks to that damn fucking cupboard he would probably never go past 5'3'', and that was only if he was lucky!

Stupid Dursley's! Stupid Tournament! Stupid...stupidness!

'_Owie, headache._' Harry whimpered, massaging his temples in a futile attempt to make the pain go away. He couldn't even mentally rant without fucking up. Sighing, he muttered aloud, "Not making any progress here. Guess I should go eat some…thing." A turkey sandwich appeared on his left. He stared at it blankly. A long fingered hand appeared from under the table, pushing it closer to him. Harry grinned as he bent under the table and caught sight of a little house elf. "'Lo there, is this for me?"

The house elf nodded its head frantically. "Yes Master Potter, LuLu is hearing you is hungry and since dinner is being over LuLu made that for you. LuLu hopes you like it," it said, though by the squeakier quality of its voice Harry thought it might be a girl.

"Thanks LuLu, you're the best." As the house elf burst into tears of gratitude Harry munched thoughtfully on his sandwich. After dinner huh? "Say LuLu? Do you know what time it is…or the date for that matter?"

"It is being November 11th, 2 o' clock in the morning, sir."

"Oh yeaaah, it is November isn't it? It's about time I start making cookies for this year."

"Cookies sir? Is you wanting cookies? LuLu can have some for you in two snappy snaps –"

"Oh no, ha! Not for me. I meant I bake cookies every year for everybody who stays at Hogwarts for the holidays."

LuLu's already humungo eyes widened further in awe. "You is making cookies for nice students on Christmas? Dobby was being right, Master Potter is the bestest, kindest wizard in the whole world!" After this declaration, she promptly burst in to tears – _again_ – saying things along the lines of not being worthy to be in his presence.

Harry patted her on the shoulder and shushed her. The last thing he needed was Filch and his heterosexual life mate Mrs. Norris on his ass at this time of night.

Hang on a tick. House-elves worked in the kitchens. The kitchens were bound to have left over food. Light bulb moment! He relayed his query to the elf.

"Oh yes, Master Potter, sir! We is having lots and lots and _lots_ of leftovers, sir."

"And what do you guys do with it?"

"We is giving some to charity, only tiny bits, the rest we's be throwing out," she said with a cheerful bounce.

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh, 'guess there's no wizard equivalent of waste management." For some reason the image of a fat faerie named Bruce manning a large magically operated recycling center came to mind. Ahem, anyway… "So you guys wouldn't mind if I used some, and maybe a section of the stoves to bake on. It'll be cheaper on my funds and much easier than dragging ingredients to that 'Change Into Whatever You Want' Room. Promise I'll stay out of the way," he said, giving a winning smile.

LuLu's eyes went wide again, only this time horror shined in her galactic orbs. "M-master is cooking…b-b-but House-elves should be cooking…and Master – but – shouldn't be – House-elves – "

"You guys are welcome to help of course!" Harry said hurriedly before she would explode or something. "But that's only if it's ok to work – "

"Of course Master Potter! You cans cook anytime you is wanting to," she said, right back to happy.

All right then. Bi-polar House-elves. Magic, as always, ceased to confuse and weird him out.

No longer stuck in a logic conundrum of House-elf norms, LuLu decided that Harry should check out the kitchens right at that moment. And Harry would have happily agreed if it wasn't three in the morning. But if Harry had learned anything from his Second Year then it was either do whatever a house-elf wants or suffer their well meaning consequences.

When they arrived Dobby gave his usual greeting of slamming his body in to his leg. Instead of the customarily cheerful "Master Harry Potter sir!", the eccentric house-elf said in a distressed manner, "Oh Harry Potter sir, Dobby is so glad you is being here!"

"What's up, Dobby. Something wrong?"

"Oh yes, Harry Potter sir!" the elf's small long fingered hand grabbed a fistful of Harry's pant leg and dragged him forward. "It's being Winky, she's…well see for yourself sir…"

Near the hearth at the back of the kitchen Winky sat upon a stool. The cute little dress Mr. Crouch had given her when he gave her the boot was dirty and worn. The straps hung off even skinnier shoulders and slid even more precariously down as she teetered back and forth in her seat. Empty bottles of Butterbeer surrounded her on the floor in a halo, a half full one clasped in one hand that she was taking a huge swig of.

"I…did not know house-elves could hit rock bottom."

Dobby nodded gravely next to him, the tea cosy on his head flopping about. "Yes sir, it is being worse than having her bottom hits with rocks. She is being really sad and is not doing any work the whole time she being here even though kind Master Professor Headmaster Dumblydore is giving her a job. She is doing nothing but crying and drinking butterbeer."

The other house-elves, all in the midst of cleaning or prepping food by the stoves and counters that lined either side of the walls, made noises of disapproval at Winky's behavior. Even LuLu, who had gone to chop veggies, was shaking her head and tutting.

"You is a _bad_ house-elf Dobby – hiccup!" slurred Winky, pointing accusingly at Dobby.

Dobby's ears shot up in confusion, pointing at his own chest and looking at her with wide eyes. "Me! Dobby is not bad! Dobby is only trying to help Winky by gettings us this job. Dobby thought that yous is wanting to work, Winky!"

Harry nodded approvingly and gave his elf pal a pat on the shoulder. It was good to hear Dobby _defending_ against derogatory comments about himself for once. He'd certainly come a long way from his days of creative self-mutilation and psychotic sobbing fits.

"You is bad cuz...cuz – hiccup! – you is betraying yours Master! Just like Winky is failing Master…Muh-master Couch!" She buried her face in her hands and dissolved into sobs, her bottle dangling at her fingertips and hiccupping every few moments completed the sorry picture.

Dobby wrung his hands, looking as if he was about to join Winky in her downward spiral towards misery and unhappiness street. "What do we do Master Harry Potter sir? Dobby is trying everything to help Winky but nothings works."

Truth be told, the short teen had no experience counseling depressed house-elves…or people for that matter. But this was a friend! And of all the people who had tried to kill him Dobby had to be the nicest. That counted for something in Harry's book. "Well, it appears that she is in hysterics. Quick!" he barked, "Slap the taste out of her mouth!"

So used to following through when that tone of voice was used, Dobby smacked Winky across the face with extreme house-elf efficiency. Winky's head jerked to the side from the force. The loud _crack_ of skin hitting skin reverberated around the kitchen. The other house-elves stopped what they were doing and stared at them. For several pin dropping seconds, all was silent.

Then Dobby looked at his hand as if it was a weapon of mass destruction and '_eeped_!', scurrying away until he was hiding behind Harry's legs. Probably a wise move. "Did…did it work, Harry Potter sir?"

"Not just yet." Harry marched up to the flabbergasted female elf and planted his fists on his hips. "Well hello there Lazy Bones, have you seen an elf named Winky around anywhere?"

Winky finally came out of her stupor and glared at him as fiercely as a drunk house-elf could. "Winky's name is not Lazy Bones! Winky's name is Winky!"

"Uhhhh…no, I don't think so. Because the Winky I remember wouldn't be sitting on her ass all day like some rich Pureblood floozy when there are precious Hogwarts children in desperate need of her services."

"Ooooooooooooooo," one house-elf instigated quietly in the background. "He is going there." **(3)**

"Winky is doing no such things! Master Crouch said – "

"And that's another thing. Here you have a second chance at proving to your old Master that you're a good worker, and instead of working like a proper house-elf you're letting all these kids down and drinking like a mini lush! Maybe Dumbledore should rent you a penthouse suite so you can laze around getting oiled up back massages by muscular cabana men on the beach and never cook or clean or sew for the rest of your life!" Harry exclaimed in disgust, pretty much saying whatever came to mind that sounded like it would insult a house-elf.

As Harry went on an angry flush appeared on Winky's cheeks and her tiny hands clenched around her bottle so hard that it shook. "Winky is not a lush! Winky is not a lazy play on the beach person! Winky is…_can_ be taking good care of kiddies!"

"Is that so? Well then, are you a house-elf? Or are you a bloody house-elf!?"

"WINKY IS A BLOODY HOUSE-ELF!"

"Then get ta house-elfing!"

Winky threw her bottle to the floor with a battle cry and hopped off her stool. She then retrieved a broom and started to sweep up her area furiously, a determined frown marring her little face.

"Master…Harry Potter…" Dobby said faintly, staring unbelievably at the very mobile Winky. "You is…THE BESTEST WIZARD IN THE UNIVERSE!" He threw his arms in the air and cheered along with the other house-elves.

Harry plonked down on one of the benches near the replicas of the House tables. Giving advice was tiring. "Sometimes tough love is the only way to get through to people," he said knowledgably. "On a completely related note; we will never speak of this to Hermione…_ever_."

"Yes Harry Potter sir, Dobby swears to never tell Missy Hermy-ninny about tonight. Dobby is sure Winky won't say anything either, Master."

Harry considered his long time elf friend for a moment. He patted the seat next to him and waited for Dobby to finish his litany of "Thank you Harry Potter sir!" before asking what had been on his mind since he'd learned house-elves were working here. "Ya know, I've always wondered, why do you guys want to have a Master so bad? I mean, after I freed you from Malfoy Senior you were right back to looking for work, right?"

"Why yes Master Harry Potter sir, Dobby is liking to work!" he said with an enthusiastic bounce.

"Yeaaaaah, I get that," the green eyed boy said carefully. "It's just – do you _like_ being…enslaved, and all that?" Ron certainly seemed to think so, but as a Pureblood wizard that kind of made him a bit biased on the issue.

Then again, asking the supposedly brainwashed being?

"It's not that sir, it is being…" Dobby fiddled with his long fingers and looked to the ceiling as if searching for words. Whoa, whoa, whoa! Did Dobby just _flounder_? "Dobby – House-elves – we is wanting the _bonding_ to the witches or wizards. House-elves is having lots and lots of energy, if we is getting too much it hurts very badly sir, worse than when bad Master Malfoy used to make Dobby iron his own hands."

"So, when I freed you from Malfoy…?"

"Oh no sir! You is not hurting Dobby, don't be worrying!" assured Dobby, patting Harry's hand. "It takes a loooooong long time for it to start bothering us, Dobby will always be grateful to Harry Potter sir for freeing Dobby, forever and ever!

"But we is liking to nipping it in the buds as quick as possible by finding another Wizard. Most House-elves is not minding being slaves sir, but…" Dobby's voice suddenly dropped and he leaned forward as if he were about to reveal a secret of great importance. Harry had never seen the normally jovial elf look so serious, not even when he was warning Harry about the Basilisk in Hogwarts. "Dobby's great great great great great great Granny is telling Dobby that Wizards used to let house-elves bond with them in exchange for protecting them and keeping thems secrets. Back then, Granny is saying that house-elves and wizards is even…even…" Dobby looked to his left and right, then said barely above a whisper, "doing chores _together_." He drew back with a shudder, the very concept probably all kinds of taboo. It was a small wonder Dobby hadn't committed seppuku with a wooden spoon at this point. Another point towards the elf's progress, Harry thought proudly. "Some house-elves is wanting – Dobby is _wanting_ – it to be like that again, sir."

"So in summation; you don't like the abuse and eternal servitude, but you do like the working and bonding so that you're energy doesn't build up until you –"

"Explode, sir."

"Oh…" Harry said faintly. The imagery in his head was not suitable for young audiences. "Well…that's only…horrifying."

"Master Harry Potter is so kind and wonderful and generous to be worrying about us house-elves! Ah, but Master Harry Potter is probably being the only wizard who knows about this..." Dobby's lime green eyes were very wide and imploring. Suddenly Harry noticed that it had grown silent again, made oppressive by the dozen or so tennis ball sized eyes discreetly looking at him. The small Gryffindor contemplated briefly what it would be like to actively get on the bad side of a house-elf.

Then he remembered Second Year and Dobby sending ol' Luscious Malfoy ass over tits down the corridor with the snap of his fingers.

"Don't worry Dobs, I'll keep mum."

As Dobby did a happy dance over Harry granting him a nickname, he went over all he had learned that night. Knowing what Harry knew now, Hermione would probably try a different route towards house-elf rights. Then again, he could understand why the little creatures wouldn't want this kind of info getting out. Masochistic as they appeared, they probably didn't want to be exploited any more than they already were. He needed to figure out a way to get his self-proclaimed freedom fighting friend to lay off the house-elves somehow; otherwise she was going to end up eating sauerkraut with her toast every morning for the rest of the school year.

**~oOo~**

"You did this!"

A finger was shoved into his face. Harry went cross eyed briefly before looking up at the owner of the finger, which was an agitatedly embarrassed Cedric Diggory.

Awwwwwww! Adorable.

"You said Malfoy did it! But Malfoy said _you_ hexed them in Potions class," said the Hufflepuff, gesturing to the various students in the courtyard who were desperately trying to spell the image on their badges away and failing miserably.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that. I forgot to tell you that I was lying."

Nothing about Cedric's expression showed amusement. His arms were crossed against his chest and he seemed to be trying his best to look stern and intimidating, but the effect was ruined by the red blush on his cheeks. Spoil sport. Still cute though.

"Change them back."

Harry mirrored his position, unmoved. "Why should I?"

"Because it's-it's ridiculous and embarrassing, that's why!"

Harry's eyebrow rose as he stared at him pointedly. The Sixth Year at least had the grace to look sheepish.

"Alright, alright I get it," Cedric relented, running a hand through his chestnut locks. "Look, it wasn't my idea but…I guess I should've said something."

"That's all I ever wanted."

"So you'll change them back then?"

"I dunnnnno," Harry drew out slowly. "I wouldn't want to be accused of reverse-slander."

"Reverse – What are you talking about now?"

"You know. It's likes regular slander, except instead of spreading awful lies about people, it's hiding the very true fact that you have delicious butt cheeks."

"Wh-WHAT! You can't just – What are you – You-you can't! – " Cedric sputtered, gesturing wildly as he flushed like an Arthurian maiden.

Harry stared at him evenly before he decided to take it easy on the guy. He wasn't that mean, but damn if Cedric Diggory wasn't fun to tease…and easy. Take that how you will. "Oh alright, I'll fix them," he said with as much 'put upon' as possible. "But if I get sued you're paying me back, and I _may_ not be talking about monetarily." Harry pulled out his wand and tapped the badge on his chest, muttering a spell that had the badge light up an electric blue briefly. When the color faded away the text now read:

"SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY!" Like before, the display changed when Cedric pressed the badge, which now showed sans pictures: "POTTER SMELLS LIKE CINNABONS"

The older Hogwarts Champion fiddled with the large button, looking it over with a slightly mulish expression. "This is the best I'm going to get out of you, isn't it?" he said with more resignation than heat in his voice.

"Got it in one, C.D. I've got a reputation to maintain, and so do my shampoos and body washes."

"Whatever," he muttered, turning to do whatever it is popular Hufflepuffs do with their time. The other students slowly started to notice the change too. Many sighed in relief while others looked at him like he was crazy. Certainly, Harry hadn't convinced anyone of his saneness with this latest spell, but that was never the point.

'_What the hell was I doing! Oh right, Great Lake._' Studying was on the agenda this weekend, as it was every day, and since the Library had suddenly been invaded by Victor Krum fangirls he decided to take his work to more scenic Hogwarts areas.

Neville was wadding in the shallows of the lake when Harry got there. He had on old looking work trousers that were rolled up to the knee and was examining a ball of plant life of some sort in his hands. Two Hufflepuffs that Harry didn't know were also perched on a boulder nearby, snacking on some sandwiches and crisps. They graced Harry with sketchy looks as he started to settle under a tree. The small green eyed teen hoped they didn't fancy their selves a confrontation, because it would _not_ end well for them. Luckily for their sanity they just as soon went back to their little picnic.

"Heya Neville, how's it hangin'?"

"I'm not hanging Harry, I'm standing," Neville said with a befuddled little smile.

….Pureblood fucking wizards. Just…why? How do they function, Harry wanted to know. Really?

"_So_…what are you doing there?"

"Oh! It's really amazing Harry! Gillyweed normally grows in saltwater lakes, but there's a whole colony growing along the shore here. Me and Professor Sprout think it's a new hybrid breed that's specific to this area, isn't that fascinating?"

"A bit," Harry said honestly, smiling to take some of the heat off. He wasn't exactly a Herbology buff, after all. "Did you discover it?"

"Yeah! I mean, it was by accident – I almost smooshed the whole thing when I tripped over my specimen bucket, and thank Merlin I missed them! I did some tests and then showed Professor Sprout my research and we agreed that it successfully bred with another plant in order to adapt to the clear water, but still maintains a high enough percentage of gillyweed properties to work in potions." Neville was practically beaming about the discovery, a sharp contrast to the distraught expression he usually wore in most of his classes.

"That's great, Nev. Are you going to submit your research to a Herbology Journal?"

Neville stared at him blankly. "Submit it?"

"Yeah, it's your discovery isn't it?"

And suddenly shy-Neville was back in full force. He hunched his shoulders and looked at his feet, tall frame folding in on itself. "B-b-but I couldn't do that! Professor Sprout did all the work and –"

"No, Professor Sprout _confirmed_ that all of _your_ work was right. You should send it in; discovering a new plant at age 14 will look good when you become a famous researcher or whatever the magical equivalent for a botanist is."

"You…really think I could do all that? Me?"

"Well obviously," Harry said, flipping through the book he brought in an effort to be casual. Poor guy never got enough support about his accomplishments. And it was a damn shame too, because he certainly deserved it. "You're the best Herbologist in our year, aren't you? It only makes sense that you'll be successful, whatever you decide to do."

After a short silence Neville went back to his collecting. "Thanks Harry," he said softly, and if his words sounded a little choked then Harry tactfully ignored that too.

The afternoon went by in relaxed quiet. Harry took notes from his various books, Neville categorized the different plant life in his bucket by conjuring small words to float lazily under each one, the two Hufflepuffs (a guy and a gal) had moved on from peacefully eating to gleefully chucking their food at each other.

"Is that Hermione? Hi Hermione!"

Harry turned to see his best lady friend heading towards them over a grassy knoll. Ron, flanked by Seamus and Dean, was following a small but definite distance behind her.

"Hello Neville," said Hermione, smiling weakly.

Ron went up to her, barely sparing Harry a mulish glance, and whispered something in her ear.

"Oh come on!" Hermione whispered back. "This is ridiculous, can't you just tell him yourself – urgh! Fine then." She pulled her attention to Harry. "Ron would like me to tell you that Seamus told him that Dean was told by Parvati that Hagrid wants to see you tonight."

Harry looked to Seamus and Dean with an arched brow. Dean shrugged and shook his head in a 'confused about the whole situation' sort of gesture while Seamus just gave him an apologetic grin. "What the hell is this, are we playing telephone now?"

"Harry! If you two could just –"

"Dah! If _you_," he pointed at Ron, "have something to say to me, then grow a pair and say it. Don't use Hermione as your bloody messenger slave." He gathered his work and prepared to leave.

Hermione looked between Harry and Ron, clearly feeling helpless. "Wait Harry! This is important for the Tourn –" She noticed the Hufflepuffs and bit her lip, looking at Harry pleadingly.

"Well Ron? What's important?"

Hermione gave Ron an imploring stare, but the redhead merely turned away, jaw set and stubbornly silent.

Harry nodded. "That's what I thought you said."

Suddenly the Hufflepuff boy streaked past him, almost tripping over his shoes in his haste. Everyone stared after him in equal amounts of confusion, even the girl he had been hanging with. Harry shrugged to himself and continued on his way, despite Hermione's halfhearted protests.

He had every intention to go see Hagrid that night, regardless of his dismissing of Ron's message. No need to take his irritation out on Hagrid just because Ron was still being a dick. But as he quickly became lost in his studies it wasn't until 4 in the morning that he remembered the meeting, and decided to just send an apology note at a more decent hour.

** ~oOo~**

By the 22nd Harry found all he needed to ward the Common Room against anyone trying to crash their reunion. Of course, anyone inexplicably wanting to enter Gryffindor between the times of 1 am and 2 am would find themselves perfectly happy taking an hour nap outside door, but hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

He paced back and forth nervously, the dim fire from the hearth the only source of light. He had no idea how Sirius was going to get here, his godfather having forgotten to put in that mini detail in the letter, and he was just all around worried about this whole setup. He turned to the flames to redirect his angst, and jumped.

"Holy ass crackers!"

Sirius's head was sitting in the fire, all casual as could be. Friggin' wizards and their defying all logic and nature and what have you. He crouched down by the hearth, and once his heart stopped trying to lodge itself in his rectum said, "Sirius - you look good. Have fun in the tropics?"

Sirius looked oh, only a hundred times better than he had the last time Harry had seen him. His face had filled out a bit, his hair was short and neat, and – it might be wishful thinking on Harry's part – the haunted look in his grey eyes seemed absent.

Those eyes were now looking Harry over, concern deeply etched in them. "Never mind me. You look awful Harry! Have you been sleeping at all? When's the last time you ate something?"

Harry dismissed his queries with a wave. He could eat and sleep all day when he wasn't about to get pulverized by Triwizard Tournament related sources. "Don't worry about it. Now I've got a Task that I have _no clue_ what to expect from and someone or someones who put my name in the Goblet running around here probably plotting my demise. Your thoughts?"

Sirius looked like he wanted to talk more about his crummy health, but thankfully conceded to more important matters. "Fine. There aren't a lot of obvious candidates for who entered you, but I'd keep a close eye on Karkaroff."

"You mean Dr. Pedophile?"

Sirius snorted, giving him an incredulous stare.

"It's the goatee. You sure we need to worry about him, though? He seemed pretty P.O'ed during the revealing ceremony. Bitched about them entering more students so the other schools would be even for like an hour."

"I'm definitely sure. He was a Death Eater – got caught the same time I was in Azkaban, but he played the Imperious card and made a deal with the ministry and gave up a load of names in exchange for releasing him."

Harry blinked slowly as he processed this bit of information. So their rival Headmaster was a Death Eater that escaped a dime in the wizard pokey for snitchin' on his – '_It's been too long since I've slept. I sound like a film noir narrator!_' He gave a firm shake of his head before speaking. "Right. So Karkaroff certainly fits all the criteria for wanting me dead, but don't you think he would worry about being the first suspect if he tried something like this? Of course, that's only assuming he's a logical thinking human being and not insane and stupid like my usual adversaries."

The tips of Sirius's shoulders appeared in the fireplace, the only indication that he was shrugging. "It's the best lead we've got so far. Have you read about Bertha Jorkins?"

"The one who went missing a while back? She worked in the Ministry right?"

Sirius nodded. "They said she disappeared near Albania, and that's where Voldemort was rumored to be last."

"So what, was she a Death Eater too? Is this one of those things where our entire government is secretly funding and supporting the Dark Side, or something? 'Cause if it is just tell me now because I don't want to keep guessing."

"What?" Sirius was giving him that look that questioned if he had been huffing something that began with a C and rhymed with propane. "No, it's not that. Everyone in the Ministry would've known the Tournament was going on, even someone in her position, so…"

"So Voldycakes just happens by her, nabs her and learns about the Tournament and…sends his light weight faithful lackey to put my name in the cup?" By the end of it Harry's tone was clearly skeptical. Again, Sirius shrugged.

"I know, I know. It's not much to go on, but it's all I got so far."

They moved on to the possible obstacles Harry could face at the First Task. Much as Sirius was a veritable lexicon of information, he didn't know anything definite about this task any more than Harry did. Though his godfather was kind enough to rattle off a bunch of useful defensive spells that Harry could look up later.

"Think of it this way Harry; if all else fails there'll be teachers, including Dumbledore, and Auror's around just in case it looks like you can't handle yourself."

"That's the thing though!" growled Harry. "It's 50/50 that the thing in the Task will kill me before help arrives. And assuming its Karkaroff or someone else familiar with how the Tournament's gonna be run this year, why bother entering me with such shitty odds like that? I mean, he'd have a better chance getting me while everyone's distracted with…the…fuck…"

"Exactly," Sirius said, nodding gravely. "Whatever move this bastard is going to make will be during the rest periods of the Tournament, so before a Task, after…"

"Bolloking ball sacks! We've got one dastardly genius on our hands. So we know who our puppet master is, this convoluted plan has Voldemort juices written all over it – "

"…Harry, you're really starting to worry me now."

" – but who is our little puppet?" He rested his chin on his fist like a mini thinker. "I'm still not sold on Karkaroff – yeah he was a Death Eater, but he's seems pretty comfortable being Headmaster and dick riding on Krums fame, that's not the kind of guy who wants to run back to the League of Douches that he betrayed. Plus, he just seems like he'd fuck it up."

"Maybe, but steer clear of him regardless, or anyone else that even seems the tiniest bit suspicious."

"Done. The answer is everyone." At Sirius's flat look he sighed. "Sorry. I haven't slept since Wednesday – "

Sirius sighed worriedly. "Oh Harry…"

" – of October."

"What!? Harry you can't –"

Harry held up a hand to silence him. His wand was glowing a soft purple along the edges, an indication that the alarm he had set on the Boy's stairs had gone off. "Someone's coming, get gone!"

"Keep your friends close, kiddo!" Sirius spoke in hurried whispers. "Don't go anywhere alone and – "

"And don't take candy from strangers, I know!" Harry hissed. "Go-go-go-go-go! And keep in touch!"

"Of course! Use a non-descript owl, not Hedwig!" And with a tiny pop Sirius's head winked out of the fire.

With maximum speed Harry jumped on the chair near the fireplace and tried to act natural.

After several tense moments the wandering culprit finally revealed themself. It was Ron, dressed in his favorite maroon jam-jams and groggily rubbing his eye with his fist. He stopped dead facing Harry across the room, who now had an old fashioned tobacco pipe in one hand, the Daily Prophet in the other, a short velour robe over his clothes and his slipper covered feet resting on an ottoman.

Natural. Like a boss.

"Good evening, Ronald," Harry said, taking a drag out of his pipe and blowing smoke rings. Oooh _yay_! He didn't know he could do that.

"Who were you talking to?" he said. Then he squinted at Harry. "What are you wearing?"

"My dear Ron, does it look as if I've been engaging in the verbal arts? Just look around you," Harry made a sweeping gesture around the room with his pipe, then said in an excited stage whisper, "there's no one here."

In Ron's defense, it only took him a moment to get past Harry's weirdness this time. "I know what I heard. I'm not an idiot," he sneered.

"Did you?"

"Yeah, I did." Ron crossed his arms and stared at him expectantly.

"Did you really, Ron?"

"Yes!"

"…Are you sure?"

"Yes – ARGH! Whatever! I just wondered where you – never mind, I'm going to bed."

Harry arched a brow at that, blowing out a smoke ring absentmindedly. Well, well. Perhaps there was hope yet. "Night Ron," he said, tone normal and smiling warmly.

It looked like Ron wanted to say something more, and it may have been poignant too, but in the end he walked back up to the dorm.

When Harry was sure his for-the-most-part friend was all safe and snug in his bed, he allowed himself to cough **violently**. "BLEH! Why did I use real tobacco!?" He coughed and coughed until it felt like he was going to hack up his lungs. Finally, the painful fit ended and the little Gryffindor leaned back in his chair, chest heaving heavily. "Dammit!" he said between gasps. "I forgot the fez hat!"

It took a second for his brain to actually catch up to what was spewing out of his mouth, and he blinked at the empty room. "'The fuck is wrong with me today?"

His answer was silence, obviously. So Harry shrugged, transfigured his pipe into candy floss and went to go check out those spells Sirius told him about.

**End Chapter**

**~oOo~**

**1)** Lyrics provided by Black Eye'd Peas' – My Humps.

**2)** I know I'm using the term "crikey" wrong. Are you confused yet? O.o

**3)** House-elf language for: "He went there!"

End Chapter Notes:

Oh my goondah! Thank you so much for all the reviews. And it looks like I got a lot of faves too! Plus 3000000 points! I so happy! YAY!

Randomly selected shout out to reviewer: **IdentErr**, who happily supports Cedric's tight ass, which is what we all should do. Really. I mean it.

Something else to add before I scurry off – "My Humps" premiered on the Black Eye'd Peas album _Monkey Business_ in 2005. The Goblet of Fire takes place from 1994 – 1995….

…Don't really have any explanation or justification for that. I guess all I can ask is what you gon' do with all that junk? All that junk inside your trunk?

Because if it were I? **I!** I, would proceed to get, get, get, get, you drunk, Get you love drunk off my hump. Quote, unquote.

…Do people even read this far into the A/N?

Up Next: The First Task! What's in store, yo?


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Oh You Didn't Know? Yeah, He's Awesome

**Rating**: T – M

Genre: Humor/Adventure/Drama

**Pairings**: None yet

**Warning**: Some Violence. Explicit Language. SLASH. Movie and Book verse mixed and matched

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. All rights reserved to J.K. Rowling

**Summary**: Remember Goblet of Fire? What would happen if Harry took the filter off his mouth and actually said what he's thinking? Bad things, probably. But it'll be fun as hell. My go at the Intelligent!Harry, Smart alec!Harry situation.

**~oOo~**

**Chapter 3**

"Esteemed colleges! After much research and study I have finally reached….an _epiphany_!"

His hair was stuck up in angles that Einstein would be jealous of, his glasses were crooked, deep bags circled his emerald eyes, and his clothes were rumpled.

Overall, Harry looked like a mad scientist, or a schizophrenic homeless person.

"And that is…I don't wanna win this damn Tournament!" He pounded the library table in front of him with his small fist for emphasis, causing the stacks of books and parchment to rattle precariously. "It's all so clear to me now! Why should I be working my ass off when all I want to do is _live_? In fact, I should be trying to _loose_ so Cedric has a better chance. Viva la Hogwarts!"

"That's genius Harry! Does that mean you're going to pretty much throw the Tournament?"

"Not just that, Hermione. I'm going to do everything in my power to get _negative_ points. That way I can give points to Cedric and he'll get like – triple – quadruple his points!"

"Gee Harry! What a handsome idea! Where do you come up with such innovative and attractive thoughts?"

"Oh pish posh Hermione! You're making me blush."

"But it's true, Harry!" Harry made the little felt Hermione-puppet on his hand say in a bad falsetto. "You're the smartest, tallest person I've ever met. If only I had the right manly bits, then I could be your love slave and make you allllll the treacle tart you could ever want."

"Don't worry Hermione; you'll always be my number 1 friend even if you can't be my number 1 man servant. Feel free to make me treacle tart though."

"Anything for you effendi." **(1)**

"Excellent! This meeting has officially been closed." He set aside the Hermione-puppet and slipped on his Harry and Captain Jack Sparrow puppets. "Well hello there Jack, fancy seeing you here in Hogwarts."

"For the last time Potter, I don't swing that way!"

"Oh, so you expect me to believe that it's a coincidence you're here? Face it Jack, you _know_ there's a spark between us."

"One handy behind my trailer does not mean we're in a relationship! And quit calling me Jack. My name is Johnny Depp."

"Then why are you here? Can you answer me that, _Mr. Depp_? Why are you here?"

"I – I…"

"Shhhhh. Don't let social expectations get in the way of what you want Captain Jack Sexy Pants, just let your emotions guide you…" The puppets slowly started to close the gap between them, until their little puppet faces were mushed together as if they were kissing. "Muwah, muwah, muwah, muwah!"

"_Harry_!"

"AHH!" Harry screamed.

Hermione, the _real_ Hermione not his honest and obedient puppet-Hermione, stared at him with wide chocolate brown eyes. She was so still it looked like she had a heart attack standing up. Surely her logic censors were short-circuiting at the idiocy before her. Perhaps he should dangle some smelling salts under her nose…or an Encyclopedia.

"What…what are you doing?"

"…no?"

"That's not an answer! What _are _those? Are those – " She gasped, giving him a severely disapproving stare, "are those voodoo dolls!?"

"What? No, no these are puppets silly nilly," Harry chuckled. "_This_ here is a voodoo doll." He held up a cute little plushie that had on the Slytherin uniform.

"Harry that's horrible," Hermione scolded. "You shouldn't joke about that kind of thing. In some countries voodoo dolls are considered very sacred and _very_ dangerous."

"Yes…a joke…of course." Smiling innocently, Harry gave the plushie's butt a few firm taps.

**~oOo~**

"GAH!" Blaise Zabini yelped, hopping off his bed.

Theodore Nott lowered his book and arched his brow at his roommate's random behavior. "What's the matter with you?"

Blaise's eyes flickered around the room, his hand holding his bum protectively. "Nothing, I thought I felt – never mind. Must have been my imagination."

**~oOo~**

Harry gently snuggled the doll close to him. "Soon my chocolate Adonis, soon," he cooed.

Hermione huffed and sat down across from him. "So, where are you now in your studies? I've come to help."

Harry's eyebrows rose in some bewilderment. The First Task started tomorrow and not once before that time he had spoken to Hermione for more than five minutes, let alone for any kind of assistance. "Erm…why?" he said carefully, trying not to convey any resentment. Because honestly, he wasn't at all upset. Harry knew Hermione had a life outside of being the smartest witch of their generation. He'd kept that lesson in mind ever since he and Ron had inadvertently shoved all of the work on Buckbeak's trial onto her, resulting in the poor girl having a nervous breakdown.

Regardless of his efforts, Hermione looked down; guilt in the pursing of her lips and the shiny quality of her eyes. "Harry I'm – I'm so sorry!" she burst out. "It's just…between trying to get Ron to be reasonable –"

"I told you not to work on him."

" – and trying to get S.P.E.W. in order –"

"I thought I told you not to work on the house-elves? I think I did…yeah, I probably did…don't work on the house-elves."

"Harry!"

"Hermione."

Hermione swallowed the lecture she was about to give at the serious expression Harry suddenly wore.

"I'm not mad at you, I never expected you to walk me through figuring out the First Task."

"But I – !"

"_Yes_, it would have been nice if you helped out more, and yes, I would have appreciated it fully. But you didn't, and you're still my best friend with boobs."

"Yes but –"

"Dah! You're still my best friend with boobs. Say it with me now."

"I'm still," Hermione rolled her eyes, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe she was humoring him. "I'm still you're best friend with – with…." She laughed before she could contain it. "God, you're ridiculous Harry, you know that?"

Harry smiled. "And _you_, giggle like a school girl. Oh wait! You are a school girl…I don't know where I was going with that, I apologize.

"That's ok Harry," he made his Hermione-puppet say. "I forgive you all your past and future trespasses –"

"Gimmie that!" she snatched the felt toy off his hand, a silly grin on her face that matched Harry's. "Well, I'm here now, so let's get as much done as we can."

They were an hour into researching and it was becoming painfully obvious that Harry was exhausted, if not because he could barely keep his eyes open then it was the fact that he was reading his text book sideways and coloring in them. Hermione's stomach tightened with worry and renewed guilt. Her friend looked really bad and she hadn't noticed…well until just now really. And to think, she had been harping on Ron all this time about being insensitive and self-centered.

"How about we take a break?"

"Nah, there's only fifteen minutes until class," Harry said as he wrote each letter of his notes with a different color quill, "may as well use the time doing something useful."

Hermione eyed her short friend's increasingly rainbow colored parchment wearily. "Um, maybe you should skip class and get a little sleep."

Harry's quill froze mid scribble. He slowly looked up at Hermione, emerald eyes piercing. "Was that a hallucination I just heard? Or did Hermione Granger just tell me to play hooky?"

Hermione rolled her eyes exasperatedly. Well, he supposed he deserved that. Hermione hadn't been a real Rule Nazi since First Year. "Just this one time. And besides, I think you really need some rest Harry. When is the last time you slept?"

"Boy if I had a galleon for every time someone asked me that, I'd have… two and half galleons…give or take," he muttered. "What's next, Charms? What's the lesson for today?"

"The summoning spell; we should be going over it for the rest of the week."

Harry blinked in surprise. That was one of the first spells he mastered since he started preparing for the First Task. Wow, he was farther ahead than he thought. "I guess it should be ok. Would you mind picking up any homework he assigns for me?"

"Of course. And I'll take notes for you too."

Harry smiled warmly at her. "Thanks Hermione, really 'preciate it."

"Come on then, I'll walk with you to Gryffindor."

As Harry started to get up his visual perspective took a nauseating diagonal turn. His body felt heavy and the ground felt like it was spinning at his feet, and before he could utter a word everything went black. The next thing he knew was Hermione yelling urgently above him and the feeling of the floor beneath him. He blinked a few times to get his bearings. "Wait…what?"

"Oh thank God! You stood up and fell over and I should've caught you but it all happened so fast and I'm so, so sorry!" she said in that rapid fire way of hers whenever she was lecturing or nervous. "Are you alright? Do you feel dizzy or nauseous? Does your head hurt? You could have a concussion – oh my goodness you have a concussion! I'm taking you the hospital wing and that's final!"

"What, no…just, calm down. I'm fine."

"No you most certainly are not fine Harry James, now let's get you to – wait! Don't get up so fast!"

Slowly, with the support of the table and a very worried Hermione, Harry climbed back to his feet. After a bit of wobbling he stood tall, and did his best to stamp out the image of himself as a swooning Princess Snow White. "_See_, I'm perfectly fine. It was just the high altitude. No need for the Hospital Wing or Madam Stick A Needle in Your Bottom."

"High altitude –!" Hermione scowled hard at him.

"Look, let's agree that hypothetically I took a tumble for a few seconds –"

"You were unconscious for five minutes!"

" – and that's because of sleep deprivation. Where am I going now? Exactly, to sleep. Infirmary problem destroyed."

The clever witch continued to scowl at him sternly. Harry _really_ hoped she saw his side of things, because he was in no state to fight her if she decided to drag him to Pomfrey's benevolent clutches. It was nothing against her personally – she was a very sweet lady even as she strapped you down to pour gross potions with unmentionable ingredients down your throat – Harry just hated the crap out of hospitals. The Dursley's _never_ let him take a day off of doing chores no matter how severely ill or wounded he was, so he always felt like a big ol' lump of useless when he was made to do so in Hogwarts.

Finally Hermione relaxed her stance, and as her scowl melted into a look of resignation Harry knew he had one this battle. "All right," she sighed. "But it's straight to bed for you once we get to the tower, and if you even so much as sneeze on the way there we're going to the Infirmary."

"Of course! Lead the way nurse Granger."

Harry slept through Charms. Curled up in a tight ball under his covers and with the stress lines in his face smoothed out for once, Harry looked so relaxed and vulnerable and quite frankly adorable that Hermione didn't have the heart to wake him. So he slept through Transfiguration as well, and lunch, and Herbology, until he finally woke up on his own midway through dinner.

He was still a little groggy, but he felt better than he had in ages. The small teen was so refreshed he could take on one…no three! No, three and a half Basilisks! And one of them had a dinosaur head! Yeah, top of the world ma.

By the time he made it down to the Great Hall he was a happy little camper. He greeted everyone with a big smile, giving a hardy hello to all the Gryffindors from first year to seventh. While things had been the least tense in Gryffindor (barring Ron of course) since the Goblet of Fire ceremony, at that moment it was like any other dinner at Hogwarts. Better even, as there was no one left out of the ruckus and conversation.

"So not only did I use an older student to put my name in the Cup, but I blackmailed him with doctored pictures of him kissing my girlfriend?"

"Yup," said Fred Weasley. "That's the latest rumor I've heard."

"Jeez, that's like the third girlfriend story. Either the Hogwarts populace is very unimaginative or they just think I have a harem of birds tucked away in my school trunk."

The twins snorted knowingly while the rest of his Housemates snickered.

"But that's not how your name was put in?" piped up Dennis Creevey.

"Nope, sorry lovey."

Harry rolled his eyes as the younger Creevey boy muttered "bugger" and discreetly handed the little girl next to him a few Sickles.

"I think the one where I climb up the ceiling with plungers on my feet and slide down a rope upside down to put my name in is the best one so far, though."

"Yes well, ignoring the fact that walking on walls with plungers only works in cartoons," said Hermione, "if anyone had bothered to do even a tiny bit of research on the matter they would know that the Age Ward actually forms a _dome_ around the cup – the line we saw surrounding it was basically a courtesy for the students sake."

"10 points to Gryffindor, Granger," Professor Moody said as he appeared behind her, startling her and causing Neville and Dean to jump out of their seats. "If those pathetic excuses for recruits in the Auror Department were _half_ as observant as you we wouldn't have a Death Eater problem."

"Ah, thank you Professor," Hermione said, a pleased flush gracing her cheeks.

Moody's scarred mouth quirked in what could be assumed was an approving smile (it was hard to tell with him), before he turned his mismatched eyes on Harry.

"A word, Potter?"

Harry briefly entertained pulling what he did with Rita Skeeter on the retired Auror, but then he remembered that he did not want to wake up murdered tomorrow, so instead he nodded gravely and followed the Defense Professor into the unknown beyond.

The unknown beyond turned out to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Office. Since the DADA position seemed to have a revolving door policy on Professors, every year the décor for the office was different. With Professor Lupin it was very scholarly with a touch of whimsy, with Professor Lockhart it was basically a museum commemorating the life and times of a narcissistic asshole, and Harry never had the chance to see Professor Quirrell's office because he was a fuckwit.

And now the office looked like everything would kill you and kill you dead. _Everything_.

There was a kind of grace in the way Moody swiftly maneuvered past the dangerous magical traps and pointy objects. Harry just tried to follow in the grizzled man's footsteps, mirroring his every move.

Moody rounded his desk and kicked his good leg up, leaning back in the rather comfortable and nonlethal looking leather chair. "Take a seat Potter."

Harry cast his chair a weary look. Knowing Moody as well (not at all) as he did, there was a 50.4% chance that the second he sat down a portal would open and he would be dragged into a world where his penis would be chopped off for eternity.

On the other hand: Disobedience plus Moody equals Harry shaped hole in the wall across the room. _So_…

"We, that is me and the rest of the staff, noticed you've been working hard preparing for the first task," Moody said, straight to the point.

"That's right, sir."

"Do you feel prepared for tomorrow? You have a battle plan?"

"Yes sir, in fact I do."

Maybe it was the manic quality to the grin Harry flashed him, or maybe it was the confidence in Harry's voice, but Moody actually looked startled.

"That so," the Defense Professor said slowly, as if impressed despite himself. Although, he probably wouldn't feel that way if he knew Harry's brilliant strategy was to do jack shit. "You already know then – bah! Of course you do, Dumbledore wouldn't let you go in blind like that. Best not to say what doesn't need to be said, eh?"

Harry didn't have the foggiest idea of what the guy was talking about, but he nodded anyway. Keep it moving, as they say.

"A word of advise, before I let you go, Potter? Play to your strengths and keep it simple, clean. In your case, better to get the job done fast then worry about impressing the judges."

"Nothing gets simpler than my plan, sir."

Moody simply nodded. "Good, good. I won't keep you up any later, then. Another piece of advice; forget about studying tonight. You'll do yourself no good memorizing one more little spell if you pass out in the ring tomorrow."

That was as good a dismissal as any. Harry thanked him for the words of wisdom (one of the few lessons that didn't scar him for life) and scampered out. In his hurry he almost ran into a student loitering outside the door.

"Whoa!" Harry said as he skidded to a stop on his tippy toes. "Sorry mate, didn't see you there."

The student, who Harry realized was Cedric Diggory, a very sketchy looking Cedric Diggory mind, waved him off. "Hey Potter. Talking to Moody in there, were you?"

"_Yeeeeeeeeah_," Harry said slowly. "If you need to talk to him I'd hurry up. I think he's about to turn in for the night."

"Ah, no. I was just uh…wondering what you guys were talking about?" Cedric scratched the back of his head, looking sketchier and sketchier by the minute.

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Hmm, it seemed there was much stalking afoot courtesy of his dear Hufflepuff. Did that bode well or unwell for his person? Frankly, Harry's still sleep deprived mind wasn't able to make that kind of decision at the moment. "Oh you know… things."

"Things?"

"And stuff."

"Ah, ok. S-sounds good."

"Indeed." Harry just stared at the older teen dead in the eye, unblinkingly and expressionless. Diggory grew more fidgety as the little Gryffindor continued to stare at him. Finally Harry barked a laugh and patted Cedric on the shoulder. "You're alright C.D. Good luck with the Task tomorrow."

"Y-yeaaaah," Cedric exhaled the word out, as if it were a last minute replacement. "Good luck to you too."

For a moment Harry mused on his fellow Champion's sudden case of Nervous School Girl Syndrome (or Nervioso Estudiante de la Muerte, as it was called in Mexico) **(2)**, but as his head connected with his pillow all thoughts of Cedric and any other Tournament related scenarios blissfully slipped from his mind, as he got his first full night's rest since this damn Triwizard bull crap began.

**~oOo~**

The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and there wasn't a cloud in the periwinkle blue sky the day of the First Task.

Harry sat up from his bed that morning and stretched luxuriously. He grinned from ear to ear, and he kept that smile on his face as he took a shower, got dressed in his better fitting hand-me-down's, and brushed his teeth. Once he gargled and spat out the paste he smiled even harder at the mirror and gave himself a thumbs-up.

Down in the Great Hall the atmosphere was tense with excitement and anticipation. Delacour and Krum were eating at the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables again respectively, as their own classmates gave them hushed advice and support. Cedric was receiving the same treatment, albeit in a more boisterous fashion, at the Hufflepuff table.

Various students from the other Houses flashed their Support Cedric badges at him, careful not to push it so that the Potter Smells Like Cinnabons message didn't pop up. Their determined expressions let him know that, alas! Even if they could not give voice through the written word, their freedom of thought could not be silenced, and their thoughts said he still stank. Stank like an old maid with a hoard of parrots damnit!

Harry casually brushed his finger against the button of a Ravenclaw who was too close and glaring too hard to stop him. _Potter Smells Like Cinnabons!_ it flashed. The fine print says it all, biatches.

Harry took a seat by Hermione, who looked like him yesterday. He stroked her puffed out hair with comforting care and piled her plate with some eggs and toast, discreetly slipping the notes she had written for him out of her sight. She blinked blurrily and furrowed her brow, as if she couldn't compute anything beyond BOOK and NOTES. If Harry hadn't known her for years he would've been worried by this behavior. She always reverted to this zombie like state whenever she overloaded her considerable mind with too much information in one sitting. So, like many times before, he guided her hands onto the fork and scooped up a bit of egg. Thankfully this seemed to kick start her brain a bit as she continued the rest of the motion on her own.

"Goooood morning my splendifourous fellow Gryffindor's!" He chirped once Hermione seemed taken care of. "How are you all today?"

His Year mates snickered, some giving positive greetings in return.

"Feeling confident, Harrykins?" Fred said cheekily.

Harry chuckled lowly. "Oh, I'm confident alright."

The normally cheerful Weasley twin frowned suddenly, apparently disturbed by the inflection in his voice, and exchanged a worried glance with his brother.

"Yes! That's exactly what you need to do, Harry!" Hermione suddenly burst out, gesturing wildly with her fork. "Confident! You have to stay confident. And focused! And – and remember to twirl your wand counterclockwise over your head with the Bombarda spell. And also –!"

Harry placed both hands on her shoulders, causing the clever witch to fall silent. He stared at her for a moment, smile reassuring and emerald eyes warm, and pulled her into a gentle hug.

"You know, I've always thought of you as a sister," Harry said softly as he nuzzled into her neck with reverent affection. "You're family to me, even if we're not related."

"Harry…"

"Triwizard Champions!" Ludo Bagman stood from the Head Table. His arms were spread grandly and there was huge poster boy smile on his face. "If you'll follow me, the First Task is about to begin."

Harry squeezed his best friend a little tighter one last time before quickly moving away. He didn't want to see her face right then. The Gryffindor's applause and cheers was a roar in the Great Hall, nearly drowning out the other schools and Houses. He desperately wanted to say something to Ron. He still cared, he was still his first friend, he was still his brother and he meant more to Harry than his own miserable life. But Ron's form was hunched over and he was stubbornly facing the opposite wall as if it were the most fascinating thing going on right now.

Harry passed him by. Sadly, Ron wasn't the only immature one.

Bagman led them onto the grounds until they reached a large tent pitched at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The task's location did nothing to settle Harry's nerves. Would they be fighting some fierce beasty after all? His only experience with the animal kingdom of the forest were acromantulas, hippogriffs, and unicorns. And seriously, if he had to fight a unicorn then he was forfeiting his magic right then and there.

"Gather round everyone," Bagman said, holding a purple drawstring sack in front of him. His grin stretched from ear to ear and he was bouncing on the balls of his feet. From the way the former Quidditch player was acting you'd think he was sending them on a vacation to the Bahamas' and not four teenagers to their doom. "Right, so the big day has finally arrived and it's time I reveal what the first task is! You will all have to collect a golden egg…"

Ok. That didn't sound too bad.

"What will be guarding each of your eggs is in this bag here. So who wants to go first? How about the lovely Miss Delacour?"

Delacour reached into the bag, her hand trembling just slightly, and pulled out a…

What. _**WHAT**_!?

A little green dragon rested in the palm of the Beuxbaton's Champion, a small sign was strung around its neck that had the number two on it. Krum pulled out a dragon as well, this one Harry recognized as a mini Chinese Fireball, the sign displaying the number three. Cedric's little dragon was blueish-gray and had the number one on its neck.

Feeling a little faint, Harry swallowed and put his hand into the silk bag, pulling out a little Hungarian Horntail with the number four on it.

"Well, there you are!" Bagman said brightly. "You have each pulled out the model of the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, hang tight. I'll be back in just a moment to explain the rules to you."

The second Bagman exited Harry immediately began pacing, running his hand through his hair and freaking out in general.

"_Ohhhhhhhhh_ man," Harry said in a low distracted voice, "Ohhhhhhh man oh man oh man. Dragons. Fucking dragons. That's…ah man. I'm fucked. I'm fucked up the wazoo. Can you guys believe this?"

Harry turned his attention to his fellow Champions. They all looked nervous, frightened, and… not the least bit surprised.

"Awwwww are you kidding me!?" Harry exploded. "Seriously? You all knew about this!"

Krum and Delacour startled at his exclamation while Cedric just looked increasingly guilty. But when no one denied his accusation Harry growled and continued his furious pacing.

Abruptly he whirled on the Hufflepuff Champion. "You too Cedric? You knew about this!"

"I – I…I mean…you expect me to believe that you didn't know?" Cedric shot back, crossing his arms defensively.

"Zat iz right," Delacour added, flipping her hair with forced arrogance. "He iz just trying to put uz off our game."

Harry just laughed bitterly at that. He crouched on the ground, his head in his hands and shaking it slowly back and forth. "Aw you screwed me Cedric, you _screwed_ me so hard." The short Gryffindor stared at the ceiling and took a deep breath. He was pretty upset by this revelation. Like pretty bloody fecking _miffed_. Alright, yeah, he knew there would be some cheating but...this wasn't just getting help from Professor's or – or… uh taking…magical steroids or whatever the fuck! This was 'I've straight up known what the task is in the beginning and I'm prepared for it in every way shape and form'. And Cedric. Oooooooooooooh Cedric. That boy. Oooooooh, grrrrr that boy. He was _so_ miffed at him. Yeah, they weren't BFF's or blood brothers or anything, but fuck damnit where was the Hogwarts solidarity here!? Didn't two years of not knowing each other and one day of passing out in front of him from 100 feet in the air mean anything to him!? Oh the _deception_! The _betrayal_!

"So what," sighed Harry, "did you guys decide to team up against the _evil_ fourth Champion? Better at least one of us wins than that guy, is that what happened?"

"Look Harry it wasn't like that –!" Cedric started.

"You know, just because you're all gorgeous and talented and tall doesn't mean I don't deserve a fighting chance!" Harry said, standing up with his hands on his hips. "Well guess what? Not only am I going to die, but my feeling are hurt too, so thank you, everyone. Mission accomplished."

"But Harry I didn't –"

"You know what, whatever Cedric. Ok. I didn't want to win anyway, so this works out for me just fine. Oh and guess who's not getting a Christmas cookie basket this year? That's right, Cedric Trust Breaker Diggory."

"_What_? What the hell are you talking about!? Would you just listen for a second –"

"Sorry, you're right. That was too far. You'll still get a basket. I'm still mad at you though!"

Just when things couldn't get any more awkward, Bagman chose that moment to reenter the tent. "Alright, how's everyone doing?"

Krum grunted, Delacour made some indiscernible albeit attractive noise, and Cedric nodded his head tightly.

"Fan-tucking-fastic, Bagman," Harry said sullenly.

Bagman gave him a look of great concern, which Harry found weird because he'd only been in contact with this guy like a handful of times "Ah…the rules! Yes. You'll all be scored according to strategy, timing, and style. So do your best to get the job done quick, but be sure to impress the judges. Just pace yourselves and whatever you do don't freeze up. Any questions?"

Harry raised his hand and then answered anyway. "Yeah, what do we have to do to loose points?"

The three Champions shot him looks of shock and confusion. Even Bagman seemed nonplussed as he blinked at Harry for a few seconds. "O-oh, you mean so you'll know what to avoid doing in order to get the maximum score," he said, his mouth working into a slow, relieved grin.

"Sure why not."

"Well then! Like I said before timing is important. The longer you take to get your egg the less points you will get. Injuries will also lose you points; again, the worse your injuries the greater the deduction. And if the real dragon eggs are damaged it will cost you as well. So all of you, keep that in mind and you should do smashingly!

"Any other questions before we get started?"

Harry, emerald eyes glazing over a bit as his mind buzzed with plans, shook his head. He assumed the other Champions followed suit because then Bagman said, "Alright then. Everyone feeling confident?" Again he looked dead at Harry when he said this. Harry, a little disturbed by this guy's attentions, nodded his head while his expression clearly said that he thought Bagman was on something.

"Right!" He clapped his hands. "When the whistle blows that's your signal to start. Good luck to you all!"

The second Bagman left Harry marched over to the bench in the corner. He sat down, closed his eyes, and breathed in and out slowly as if descending a meditative stance. The buzzing noise of excitement and a thousand conversations sounded outside as Hogwarts students, teachers and guests tromped down to the arena.

"Hey Harry," Cedric said quietly, and when the small Gryffindor opened his eyes the Hufflepuff was standing next to him. "I just wanted to say that I really didn't know that you didn't know."

"Huh?"

"About the dragons. I would have _told you_, alright? If I'd known…you gotta believe me."

"What? Oh! That, yeah. I don't care about that anymore, your fine," Harry said, tone easy and dismissive.

"Really?" Cedric said, nonplussed. And understandably so after Harry's little outburst. Of course, what the poor guy didn't know was that once Harry managed to say his piece his anger pretty much fizzles out to the point of amnesia. "Because I mean it. If I I'd known – "

A whistle blew from somewhere outside.

Harry smiled at Cedric and waved furiously. "Bye Cedric! Good luck and remember to do better than me!"

Cedric gave him one last look of mixed concern and confusion before exiting the tent.

The crowd went wild with applause. The dragon roared and Bagman commentated his little Wimbourne Wasp colored panties off. Delacour went next, then Krum. Lather, rinse, repeat and all that jazz. According to the scores so far, Cedric was in first, Delacour second, and Krum last. Smooshed eggs _and_ he took too long. Yeesh. Harry didn't want to kill the baby dragons. That was just bad Karma. He had other tricks up his sleeve, all of which were awe inspiring in their retardedness.

The whistle blew. Harry opened his eyes. "Game time."

**End Chapter**

**~oOo~**

1 effendi – Title of nobility meaning lord or master

2 Nervioso Estudiante de la Muerte – Literal and grammatically incorrect translation: Nervous Student of Death

End Chapter Notes:

Whoa. Hecka reviews and favorites. You guys are the best. I feel loooooved and appreciateddddddddd and all kinds of things that make me happy. So, big thank you and figurative round of applause for everyone who reviewed! WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Also, a big thank you to **Phoenix0192**! Who actually read and reviewed my two other fics in addition to this one, and that just made my day complete in all ways. So thank you again! A little free advertisement here – if you like Yu-Gi-Oh! Fic as much as myself, go check out their work. It's fantastic!

Soooooooo, this took forever. Not because it was hard to write, but I don't know if ya'll know but I got a job, world. We had to prepare for our annual fund raising dinner early October, then right after it was getting people to register to vote and a little campaign work, all of which was stressing my ass out.

Now we're preparing for our annual Thanksgiving Turkey Basket Giveaway, which consists of giving a buttload of turkeys, canned veggies, bread, rice, ect, to a buttload of people in low income neighborhoods. And that's the easy part of it. Don't get me wrong, my job is amazingly awesome, but it's still a lot to do.

Question: When will the next chapter be out? Answer: Do not know. I'll try to get out within the next week or two, if not earlier, 'cause I hate to leave you with cliffhanger. But, to be cliché, only time will tell.

RANDOMLY SELECTED SHOUT OUT TO REVIEWER: **JannaKalderash**, who found this story to be cracked up (YESSS!) and that they wished cannonHarry had been as mouthy as this one. I'm sure we all feel the same way my friend. If only Harry had kept it more real –_shakes head in disappointment_–

RANDOMLY SELECTED LINK: So Phoenix0192 also mentioned that this story reminded them of A Very Potter Musical, to which I replied; "I have not heard of such a thing! Pray, what madness do you speak of?" I then took a peaky poo of this youtube delight, and promptly threw a Buick into a thrift store for not knowing that this was the best thing ever. Here's the link: www DOT youtube DOT com SLASH user SLASH StarKidPotter

Now go watch it.

Final thoughts: Thank you again soooo much for the feedback!

And remember…Like it? Hate it? Tell me about it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: Oh You Didn't Know? Yeah, He's Awesome

**Rating**: T – M

Genre: Humor/Adventure/Drama

**Pairings**: None yet

**Warning**: Some Violence. Explicit Language. SLASH. Movie and Book verse mixed and matched

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. All rights reserved to J.K. Rowling

**Summary**: Remember Goblet of Fire? What would happen if Harry took the filter off his mouth and actually said what he's thinking? Bad things, probably. But it'll be fun as hell. My go at the Intelligent!Harry, Smart alec!Harry situation.

**~oOo~**

**Chapter 4**

The pasty orange burn salve was barely dry on his face before Cedric Diggory was up and walking and practically creating a hole in the dirt floor with his pacing. He was in the little hospital tent with Krum and Fleur. A month ago Cedric would be inwardly squealing with joy while trying to keep a cool but approachable appearance at the prospect of being in the same room as these two.

An international Quidditch super star? A girl with honest to Merlin veela blood in her? Stuff like this does not happen to Hufflepuffs, popular or not. In fact, this was just the kind of random yet wicked thing that would happen to Harry Potter.

Which was why, despite all logic telling him otherwise, for a little while he believed it when they said Potter had put his name in the Goblet of Fire. And he was right pissed off about it too!

Thankfully, reason kicked in pretty quick and the likelihood of a Fourth Year, even if it was Harry Potter, hoodwinking one of Dumbledore's spells was ludicrous. He let it go, but a simmering resentment had remained. He didn't know how deeply that resentment had taken root until today.

All last night he'd felt his conscious was cleared. He'd tried to tell Potter about the dragons several times. It wasn't his fault that Potter was being so…so _weird_ that he couldn't organize his thoughts fast enough to tell him! And for all he knew Potter already knew about the dragons, and he'd just made himself look like a jabbering idiot for five minutes. What were the odds of Professor Moody speaking to him after his office hours, if not to reveal the Task's big secret?

Besides, in the end this was a competition! A sport! And just like any other sport having one up on your opponent was the nature of the game. Surely Potter, as a fellow athlete, would understand that?

But then he saw the look of shock and fear in those emerald green orbs as Fleur pulled out her model dragon, and the fact that Potter had _**not**_ put his name in the cup and he was _**fourteen**_ and Cedric had just let a fourteen year old fight a _**dragon**_ without saying a word came crashing down on him all at once. He wanted to throw up and cry and hit something and beg forgiveness all at the same time.

Suddenly Cedric whirled on the other two Champions, his helpless anger needing an outlet. "Why didn't you guys say anything to him!?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," said Fleur, "I knew nothing of the First Task until today." She was sat up on her hospital cot; her foot wrapped and propped up with a pillow. In the midst of putting out the fire on her skirts she managed to twist her ankle, but was able to cover it up before the judges took notice and deducted points.

Krum, sitting on the edge of his cot with arms crossed defiantly, had also sustained some injury on his left shoulder – the slash a result of a mere grazing from his dragon's tale – which Bagman seemed ridiculously enthusiastic about pointing out.

The medic tent was apparently a last minute addition, at least according to Madam Pomfrey's angry muttering. There was another section adjacent to them separated by a tent flap, but as none of them were overly injured Pomfrey had put them in the same room.

"Oh please," Cedric sneered, "I saw Madam Maxime and Karkaroff snooping around the night they brought the dragons in, and somehow I doubt they kept that bit of information to themselves."

"You cannot prove anything without implicating yourself," Fleur looked down her nose at him, giving up all pretenses apparently. "And if you believe that the _boy_ was clueless about ze task then you are a fool."

"Are you deaf? Or did you not hear him earlier?"

"Clearly a performance."

"What would be the point? He obviously didn't tell on us!"

"W-well if he was so worried about the danger then maybe he should 'ave thought of that before he put his name in the cup!"

"Is that what we should write on his tomb stone?"

Fleur reared back as if she'd been slapped.

"Vhy didn't _you_ tell him?"

Cedric startled at the sound of the heavy Bulgarian accent. He hadn't heard the older teen since…actually he had never heard him speak, not even when everyone was arguing the night the Champions were named. He barely remembered Krum _being there_, come to think of it.

For a guy who was every die hard Quidditch fan's wet dream come to life he sure knew how to disappear in a room…

He'd been hanging around Potter _far_ too much.

"What?"

"Vhy didn't you tell Potter yourselv? You are both from Hogvorts, yes? I thought Hogvorts students had more loyalty towards each other. More than Durmstrang at least."

"I did! I mean…I tried to but…" Cedric sighed, running a tired hand down his face, "I don't think I tried hard enough."

"Hmph," Fleur piped in, overly triumphant, "and you were zo queek to blame uz, when you only care about winning az well!"

"This stopped being about winning when a child was forced to enter a competition for adults. We, _all_ of us," Krum looked pointedly at Fleur, "should haf remembered that."

He was right. Of course he was right. That didn't make the leaden feeling of guilt in his stomach lighten any. "What should we do now?" Cedric said in a smaller voice than he would've liked.

Krum's stoic visage seemed to soften a little as he sighed. "We vait for the Task to end. Hope for the best."

Cedric's shoulders slumped. He knew there was nothing he could do at this point. He'd made his choice with his half assed attempt last night, and now poor Harry had to deal with the consequences.

Krum's solid hand squeezed Cedric's shoulder comfortingly. If he had been in the mood he would mentally declare that he would never wash that shoulder again. As it stood, all he wanted to do now was curl into a corner and keel over. "I haf seen him many times in the library practicing spells. It vas very impressive. He vill manage."

"_And now for our youngest Champion,"_ Bagman's voice boomed from outside, _"representing Hogwarts; Harry Potter!"_

Boo's and cheers blasted across the arena. Cedric wanted to think that the heckling was just coming from Slytherin House, but knew that it was coming from everyone except the Gryffindors.

"…What a show of competiveness! Is it alight to share with him, Judges? Excellent! Eight minutes, Potter. Now let's see what you're made of!"

Cedric's brows rose. He turned to Krum, who mirrored his bewildered gaze. "What's he want to know your time for?"

Krum shrugged, but didn't offer any speculation. It seemed he had filled his speaking quota for the day.

"

"…_and it looks like Potter is going to try his hand at some transfiguration. But can he outdo Diggory's impressive Labrador?"_

"That's it Harry, don't try anything fancy. Just do what I did and get out of there," Cedric muttered, relieved that the Boy-Who-Lived seemed to be honest in his intention to just survive this Tournament as low key as possible.

"…_appears to have transformed a rock into some sort of…small…multicolored cube. I've never seen such a device before! As far as weapons go this has to be the strangest __**I**__ have ever seen. How will Potter use this unusual creation to get his golden egg?"_

Cedric felt his confusion increase as Bagman's commentating went on. If he didn't know any better, then the Hufflepuff would say that Harry had created a bloody rubik's cube. '_What the hell are you playing at kid?'_

The minutes ticked by, and Bagman added nothing further to clue the Champion's in as to what was going on in the dragon enclosure, only exclaiming now and then how "the clock was ticking" and "if you don't make a move soon Potter you be at the bottom no matter what spell you use!"

A half hour past, and Cedric was starting to think Harry's strategy was to sit there until the judges told him to go away, when Bagman said; _"Oh! It looks like Potter's finally going to make a move, folks! It had better be something spectacular if he wants to make up for that time wasted…Seems he's going for a daring, direct approa – what on earth is he –!? DEAR LORD!"_

The crowd exploded with screams. Fleur sat up with a gasp while Krum hopped to his feet. Cedric followed suit, expression wild with worry as he felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"Mon deiu, what have we done," Fleur whispered, hand fluttering to her mouth and ocean blue eyes wide with horror.

"_THE DRAGON TAMERS!"_ Bagman's shouts were earpierceing with the _sonorous_ charm. _"SOMEONE GET THE DRAGON TAMERS! HURRY – GET HIM OUT OF THERE DAMNIT!"_

Abruptly the crowds screams tapered off, and a collective "_whooshing_" sound was heard, as if everyone had simultaneously gasped. '_Please no,_' Cedric thought. His throat was so tight he couldn't swallow. Soon to be shed tears pricked the corner of his eyes. '_Please…don't be dead…Oh God please…_' He couldn't breathe. He couldn't _breathe_!

"_Oh…my God. In-incredible…"_ Bagman breathed out.

**~oOo~**

Harry stared blankly at the mama Hungarian Horntail.

She stared back; crouched low over her clutch of eggs, wings half furled, spiked tail thrashing about, yellow eyes giving him the once over, and just…huge. As. Fuck.

"Oh my various wizard gods," Harry deadpanned.

"And now for our youngest Champion," Bagman boomed, happy as can be as usual. Harry wanted to choke him, "representing Hogwarts; Harry Potter!"

"Boooooooooo!" half the crowd answered.

Oh, how cute. With great restraint Harry reeled in the urge to do something childish; like give everyone the two finger salute, or whip off his pants and dishonor them with a celebratory booty dance.

Psh. They didn't deserve to feast their eyes upon his glorious butt cheeks.

Harry inhaled and exhaled slowly, going over the intricate step by step plan he had woven within his brain five minutes ago one last time, before reluctantly taking his eyes off the dragon and turning to Bagman.

He quickly cast the _sonorous_ charm on himself and said, "Mr. Bagman! Mind telling me what Krum's time was?"

Bagman blinked in bewilderment before recovering with a bright smile. "What a show of competiveness! Is it alight to share with him, Judges?" From their raised seats the judges – Barty Crouch, Dumbledore, Maxime, and Karkaroff – leaned over and exchanged whispers. After a moment Crouch nodded for all of them. "Excellent! Eight minutes, Potter. Now let's see what you're made of!"

After a quick nod to himself for courage, Harry canceled the sonorous and set the alarm on his watch to go off in a half hour. Maybe that was a little overkill on the timing, but Harry was taking no chances with this. He then pointed his wand at a nearby rock and, after a bit of thought, transfigured it into a rubik's cube. Ever since Dudley had chucked the 3D puzzle at him in Primary School Harry had always been fascinated by the muggle toy. Plus he could never figure the damn things out, even when he cheated. They were the devil's creation. Really though.

With as little grace as possible, the small Gryffindor plopped down on the ground crossed legged and fiddled with the cube.

Time passed. Bagman's commentary quickly descended into scolding warnings and then near pleading. The crowd's excited chatter turned into confused and irritated whispers, which was well on its way to heckling again. Even the dragon seemed impatient. She heaved yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground, sort of like how a cat does when they knead their paws into fabric except…ya know, less cuddly and more maim-y.

Despite all the tension Harry waited. He waited and waited and by the time he had finished the yellow side of the cube (a new record. Brilliant) his watch finally went _beep-beep_, _beep-beep_!

Harry pocketed the cube and made a show of stretching as he stood up.

Phase one of First Task Fail: Gather intel about lowest egg nabbing time. Complete.

Phase two of FTF: Screw around with a stupid little toy and anger the masses. Complete.

Phase three of FTF: Waste enough time so your score will be lower than dirt. Complete

And now for Phase four, the pièce de résistance, the icing on the cake, the bacon to his BLT….The Injury.

Harry picked up a pebble and tossed it thoughtfully in his hand, eyeing the great lizard with careful contemplation. Now if he were a dragon, what part of the body would piss him off the most if it were prodded repeatedly?

Harry thought of every animal Dudley had ever tormented in the history of Dursley douchery. One thing stood out to him as clear as the Saran Wrap his cousin used to tape to a cat 's paws. "Tail," he said with a decisive nod.

Don't tickle a sleeping dragon, right? Right. Well, here's another tip; don't throw small rocks at a dragon's tail like it's a junk-car in an empty parking lot.

"Oh!" Bagman perked up. "It looks like Potter's finally going to make a move, folks! It had better be something spectacular if he wants to make up for that time wasted!"

Harry tossed the pebble as hard as he could. He barely spared a worry for her; a pebble combined with his less than measly human strength wouldn't even register on her pain scale. It didn't take long for the pebble to make contact. With a tiny little bounce, the pebble slid down the massive scales and…

**CRACK!**

The dragon's tail connected with his torso, solid stone and steel against fragile flesh and bones. The force of it sent him flying across the enclosure. He didn't even _think_ it properly. All that went through his mind was "landing" and "will be pancake", and with those disjointed thoughts he somehow, _miraculously_, cast a cushioning charm on himself.

And not a moment too soon. His back collided with one of the scenic boulders. The charm held up enough to keep his innards being liquefied and shattering his bones, but not enough to shield him from the earth shattering _pain_ wracking his tiny frame from the impact. He slid down the rock and fell to the ground, sprawled out on his stomach.

It took several eternities before he could draw breath, only for it to send shards-of-glass agony through his chest. People were screaming, Bagman was hysterically shouting something about Dragon Tamers, and the she-beast herself gave an ear-piercing ROAR that shook the whole enclosure.

A large part of him just wanted to lay there until he blacked out, a smaller part was ranting on what a stupid fuck he was for doing this, and an even tinier part than that was doing a little victory cha-cha at the fact that this stunt was _sure_ to put him in the bottom…_wahoo_!

His lips curled into a smile as the thought that his fuck-tard plan actually worked quickly became his only focus. The taste of victory snapped him back into reality; the task was still going on, he still needed to finish it, mama dragon was standing on her hind legs and rearing her head back and about to do something that would likely mean no more Harry Potter.

Grunting and gritting his teeth, the little Gryffindor used all his strength to push himself off the ground. Slowly, inch by inch, Harry stood back up, hunched over and coughing uncontrollably. Blood crept up his throat and splattered on the ground with each hacking cough. His legs shook underneath him, but he fought against to urge to collapse.

Tendrils of flame gathered in the dragon's mouth, forming a mini cyclone of yellow-orange-red hot death. There was no way he could run; he couldn't even bring himself to move his quickly weakening body behind a rock, let alone try to leap out of the way. Just one choice then, at least there was only one he could think of with his brain as addled as it was. He raised his wand – him; a trembling, blood drenched, tiny, _mess_ – and pointed it at the Hungarian Horntail, his other arm curled around his stomach in a vain attempt to stave off the pain.

The Hungarian Horntail flung her head, long elegant neck snapping forward, and let loose a wave of fire.

"_Commutatus Borrire_!" **(1)**

A small point of sky blue light appeared on the tip of his wand. The light expanded over him like an umbrella, cooling his skin like someone had turned on an air conditioner. The fire connected with his spell, completely surrounding him in a blazing inferno.

For several moments all that could be seen was a ball of fire.

Then, a ring of translucent…something….formed around where Harry stood. Slowly, little by little, the substance crawled up the flames. Consuming it, replacing it, and leaving more in its wake. As the mysterious entity climbed up the rushing fire, it became obvious what it was.

Bubbles.

Thousands upon billions of sudsy. Harmless. Bubbles.

The stream of bubbles soon reached the inside of the dragon's mouth, winking out any remaining flames. The Horntail's yellow eyes widened in what could only be described as shocked panic. She snapped her jaws shut and dropped back down to all fours, like a puppy that had been bopped on the head and didn't understand why. She opened her mouth, trying to let out another fire attack, but all she did was make a hacking noise and spout more bubbles. Several times she tried this; shaking her great head around and sending jets of bubbles all around the enclosure like one of those toy automatic bubble guns.

Lower to the ground, a large sphere of bubbles floated lazily before dispersing as well, revealing Harry Potter – uncooked, not even singed – once again.

Hazy jade eyes passed over the dragon, who was doing a remarkable impression of a wild fire hose with the water on too high, and landed on the nest of dragon eggs. He gathered the meager remains of his strength and swung his arm in a wide, graceful arc, shouting, "_Terra Talitrum!_" **(2)** As his wand pointed to the ground in the midst of his swing a fissure appeared in the earth and raced across the enclosure until it reached the nest. The moment his arm came up, his wand pointed high, the golden egg launched itself into the air. It arced over the dragon and through the fog of bubbles. It sped down towards Harry and he caught it with his other arm with an "_oomf_". The weight and force made him tilt to the side but he thankfully managed to right himself.

"Oh…my God. In-incredible…" Bagman breathed out, his boisterous voice rendered quiet with awe, with reverence.

For point five seconds, the entire stadium went quiet. So quiet that you could hear even the tiniest ant crawling on the ground…

Then, the audience practically broke the sound barrier with cheers and applause.

"I can't believe my eyes," Bagman continued to stammer, though you could barely hear him over all the other noise. "That…incredible…just incredible."

Swaying in his spot, Harry looked around him in consternation. '_No-no-no-no-no 'the fuck shit is this? Are they cheering? No! They can't be cheering! Why the hell are they cheering!?_' he thought hysterically. No amount of mental commandments could stop the audience from enjoying his spell. Everyone, young and old, gaped happily at the bubbles, hopping and frolicking around trying to catch them.

His downward spiral into a stupendous fit of bat-shit crazy was thankfully interrupted by the sound of a booming, guttural voice; "~_What have you done…ack! Damned human! My flames! What magic is – ACK! What have you done!?_~"

The slight hissing quality to the voice immediately clued Harry in to what was going on. It wasn't _too_ much a stretch of the imagination that dragons and snakes spoke a similar language, being in the reptile family and all…maybe. Whatever, he could figure out the logistics later when he wasn't bleeding out. "~_Calm down woman!_~" he called up to the dragon impatiently. The mighty creature froze at the address and stared back at him, occasionally hiccupping more bubbles. "~_The spell'l wear off eventually, jeeze!_~"

"~_Vile human! You have poisoned me with your magic!_~"

"~_I didn't poison you. Stop being so dramatic._~"

"~_Cruel, evil human! My hatchlings will be orphans now!_~"

"~_You were the one that launched me into next Saturday!_~" Harry shouted indignantly, shaking his fist at the Horntail.

"~_I was – acckkk – defending myself!_~"

"~_It was just a __**pebble**__! You need to work on your anger management issues lady. And stop dancing around before you squish your eggs!_~"

"~_My eggs!_~" She whirled around and nuzzled around her nest, suddenly a gentle and sensitive little mommy kitty.

Harry smacked his hand to his forehead at the sight. "I can't take this shit anymore," he muttered.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Bagman went on, having to shriek above the noise of the crowd, even with the _sonorous_, "suspend your disbelief! Not only did Harry Potter do the impossible by transfiguring dragon fire, _dragon fire_, into **bubbles**, he appears to be…trash talking the Horntail! A-apparently he knows the language of the most ancient magical creature in our world – but what can we expect from the Boy-Who-Lived but the amazing, the spectacular, the absolutely unbelievable! Truly this day will go down in Triwizard Tournament history!"

Harry saw the dragon keepers rushing forward to subdue the Horntail, and, over at the entrance to the enclosure, Professor McGonagall, Moody, and Hagrid hurrying to meet him. All of them wore expression that varied between fear and amazement.

"You foolish, _foolish_ boy," McGonagall breathed fiercely, pulling him into a hug as bubbles floated lazily out of her hair. In fact, they were all covered in bubbles to some extent. Seeing Moody with a sudsy Santa beard somehow made him more intimidating though.

McGonagall conjured a stretcher and made it float. "Here now, let's get you to the Hospital Tent."

"Mrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh, I hate the stupid hospital," Harry muttered petulantly.

"I will have none of that young man," McGonagall snapped sternly. "You could have been killed –!" her breath hitched. She closed her eyes and seemed to compose herself. "Now hold still while I levitate you."

With an exaggerated pout Harry allowed himself to be floated onto the stretcher.

They lead him out of the enclosure, McGonagall still murmuring about how foolish he was and that he was going to give her a heart attack one of these days.

"I did tell ya not to be flashy, didn't I Potter?" Moody looked very pleased despite his tone, his magical eye dancing in its socket.

"Yeh're really somethin' else, Harry," Hagrid said, gently patting his shoulder. "But _please_, don' _ever_ try a stunt like tha' again."

Harry gazed up at them with big green earnest eyes. "M'sorry," he said to Hagrid, but placed a hand on McGonagall's so she knew he included her in on the apology too. He didn't mean to worry people, he just never thought about others' reactions when it came to his safety, as shitty as that sounded. No one had ever cared about him before Hogwarts.

McGonagall gave him a tight smile in return. He hoped he was forgiven, as he truly hated putting that expression of anxiety on his favorite Head of House's face.

Madam Pomfrey was waiting out at the mouth of the medic tent, pale as a ghost and wringing her hands. Oh hell in a hand-basket, she must have seen what had happened, or at least heard Bagman's terror filled ramblings. Now he couldn't even play off his injuries.

Once the three Professor's dropped him off and Harry was settled on his cot, the Mediwitch immediately began casting a diagnostic spell and summoning several potions to her. "Severe bruising on the ribs, back, lungs and stomach, several scratches, two of them deep lacerations on the back…"

She made him drink several potions; all of them were disgusting on their own but combined? Combined they tasted like juicy butter socks with a hint of armpit farts. Bleh!

Taste aside, the potions did their trick. The throbbing pain in his back and stomach that flared up at every movement slowly faded into a numbness that made him feel gloriously light headed. After dabbing a purple liquid on his cuts that stung and smoked, she pointed her wand at them and they healed instantly. The ugly, dark black-blue bruising all over his torso remained though, apparently too extensive to be healed with a spell at that moment.

"Dragons," she tutted in disgust, "they have no business being a school full of children, and this just proves it! You'll be on bed rest for weeks because of this Mr. Potter. Oh you poor dear," the Mediwitch cooed, running her hand through his hair briefly. "What were they thinking putting such a little thing like you against a wild animal?"

Harry blinked blurrily at her, "The dragon wasn't _that_ little."

She chuckled, though Harry couldn't imagine why. That dragon knew what she was getting into…

Damnit! He wasn't short! Who voted Poppy Pomfrey King Boss of Size Declaration anyway? Nobody that's who!

She petted his hair again and he fairly purred at the attention….Fine! He would be indignant at her later. And she'd best watch out too, for his ire was formidable when unleashed.

"Now you just sit tight – stop shaking your fist at nothing! Honestly, you get the silliest side effects from these potions – and let the potions do their work. I'll bring back a Sleeping Draught for you in a moment."

She bustled out of the tent and he heard her go next door and say, "How does it feel now, Diggory?"

"What happened!" he heard Cedric exclaim, panic-stricken worry in his voice. "Is he alright? He's not hurt too badly is he? Is he!?"

Before he could marinate on _that_ bit of information, Hermione came darting inside the tent.

"Harry!" She flung herself at him and grabbed him in a hug. Just as well that Pomfrey had numbed him to the tits because this would _really_ be hurting him right about now.

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeey," he greeted faintly.

"I was so frightened. I thought you – and then you – WHAT WERE YOU _THINKING_ HARRY JAMES POTTER!?"

"Uhhhhh…Yolo?" **(3)**

Hermione stared at him.

"You're right. That's too abstract, even for me."

She looked like she couldn't decide between crying, hugging him again, or punching him in the balls. "You…you…" The intelligent witch growled in frustration as she settled on options 1 and 2 (thank you wizard Jesus), clinging to him a little more gently this time. "You idiotic, amazing, _lunatic_!" she said in between sobs.

Harry patted her soothingly on the back and smiled. "And I love you, Hermione."

She cried even harder.

Just as Hermione was getting herself together, another person entered the tent, this one a little more hesitantly.

Harry's green eyes flashed. "Well, well, well. Look what Raggedy ass Andy dragged in."

Ron stood at the threshold of the tent. His face was so white that his freckles stood out starkly and he was staring at Harry as though he were a ghost.

"Harry," he said, very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet – I-I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

"Brava!" Harry deadpanned, giving a slow golfers clap, "did you figure that out all by yourself? Someone give the man a ginger snap. Get it? 'Cuz your hair is red…I hate you!"

Hermione stood nervously between them, biting her lip as she looked from one to the other.

"Look Harry, I'm really sorry – !"

"You bet your freckled booty that you're sorry! You _know_ I don't like being a part of this grandiose bullshit! How many times do I have to tell you that I don't want this kind of attention! That I hate that the _only_ reason why I'm rich and famous is because my fucking parents were murdered in front of me! And not only do people shove that fact in my face every five seconds, I have a bunch of psychopaths trying to kill me for something I am relatively-_fucking_-certain I did not do!"

"I KNOW!" Ron burst out. His chest was heaving slightly and his blues eyes were suspiciously bright. "I know all that, okay. I – I messed up. I don't know what I was thinking –"

"You weren't thinking, that's what happened."

"You're right –"

"You were being stupid."

"I know –"

"You were an idiot."

"I _know_," the redhead growled, frustrated at himself. "I should have believed you wouldn't put your name in – I _did_ really, I was just so – and I should've stood by you too –"

"You should have," Harry said with a firm nod. Suddenly his resolve crumpled, and he said in small voice, "that was mean."

"I know. I'm so sorry."

"You – you're not supposed to do that. Everyone else does that. Not – not _you_. You're supposed to believe me…and – and you weren't there for a month!"

Ron hesitated for a split second before joining Harry on his cot. Carefully, as if he were fighting against every iota of manly pride that rebelled against this, he wrapped his arm around his small friend's thin shoulder and pulled him into a hug. Harry buried his head on Ron's shoulder without prompting. When they spoke again it was quiet.

"You're a jerk."

"I am."

"And your face is stupid."

"It is."

"You're still my friend?" Harry warbled sadly with a pathetic sniffle.

"Yeah. We're still friends."

"_Boys_," Hermione whispered exasperatedly, smile watery.

"Group hugggg," Harry deadpanned as he lazily reached behind him, grasping for Hermione's arm.

Giving a part relieved part frazzled laugh, Hermione climbed onto the cot and joined in the three way hug fest.

"_The judges have finished deliberating and will now reveal Harry Potter's score!_"

Harry grinned a grin most maniacal. "Heh heh, five galleons says I get zeros across the board!"

Hermione and Ron gaped at him with stupefied expressions. They stood there for so long that they had to scurry after Harry as he made his way to the edge of the closure.

"Why on earth would you think that?" said Hermione.

"Why would you _want_ that!?" Ron shrieked incredulously.

"Didn't you guys see me out there? I _sucked_!" Harry grinned proudly. "My time was the longest, I got hurt, _annnnd_ I used a second year spell. Completely terrible all 'round. There's no way I can't lose."

"Harry, that spell _was not_ second year level," Hermione explained slowly, eyeing him as if he were speaking a different language. "That wasn't even seventh year level! The only thing that can stand against a dragon flames is the skin from a dragon; no spell, enchantment, or ward has ever stood up against it, at least not for very long. What you did was impossible!"

"Nuh uhhh. It said so in the text book I was reading. I mean, it was kinda old but it still said it was for kids in second year back then."

"_How old_, Harry?"

"Errr, it marked the spell at 1500 BC?"

Again, Hermione could only gape at him. Harry was starting to feel bad about rendering the poor girl speechless so often this month. He hoped that didn't affect your brain cells – Hermione would kill him.

"Wow, I guess Grammy Weasley wasn't exaggerating when she said they didn't make wizards like they used to," Ron muttered. Suddenly, he did a double take at Harry. "Wait a minute, Harry! Did you just say you were trying to purposely loose!? Like…on purpose!?"

"Em, define '_Harry'_."

"That hit you took wasn't an accident you…you provoked – you almost killed yourself because you're trying to loose!? Are you out of your mind!?"

Harry laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. He looked between his friends who seemed on the verge of pouncing on him and doing who knows what – bets on that it involved locking him in his dorm wrapped up in blankets with a helmet strapped on him. "Oh look, they're giving the scores!"

And indeed, Madame Maxime stood from her seat and raised her wand in the air. A long silver ribbon shot out of the tip (heh, tip) and twisted itself into a large nine.

The crowd applauded. Harry's jaw dropped. "What."

Mr. Crouch came next. He shot a number ten into the air.

"_What_!? Are you blind! Fleur and Cedric beat me fair and square!"

Next was Dumbledore. Harry crossed his fingers. Surely the good ol' Headmaster would score him objectively.

He put up a 10.

"Oh _COME_. _ON_!" the small teen cried. The cheering audience members closest to him paused and gave him odd looks, poking their neighbors and likely telling them about his strange reaction.

Ludo Bagman – 10. Well, no bloody shock there.

Finally, Karkaroff raised his wand. Harry waited with baited breath. This guy was as openly biased as they came. It was practically criminal that they put him on the judging panel at all. He was guaranteed to give Harry a bad score…

The Durmstrang Headmaster paused for a moment, then, with a resigned air, shot off his number.

An eight. A friggin' eight!

Harry cupped his hands against his mouth, and shouted with all his might, "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Now he had the judges and a large majority of the audience's attention. Good! Maybe they would help him sign the petition to re-tally his score that he was about to create when he got the chance!

"This game is rigged!" he continued, shaking his fist at the flabbergasted judges. "Anyone with eyes can see I was the worst out of all of them! Where's the justice!? This is an outrage! Cedric Diggory was robbed! I call a foul! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

But all the activity, so soon after being wounded, was quickly catching up to him. His vision swam a bit and he teetered dangerously from side to side

"Harry!" Hermione hissed in alarm.

Ron just shook his head as if he had fulfilled his quota of nonsense for the day. '_You and me both buster brown,_' Harry thought sullenly.

The red head wrapped his arm around his shoulders and started to steer him away. "C'mon mate, let's get you back to Madam Pomfrey before you pass out."

"Cedric Diggory for President!" Harry called behind him one last time before he was brought back into the tent.

Only to come face to face with a very angry Madam Pomfrey. "MR. POTTER! How many times have I told you not to run away when you're injured like this?"

"Twennnnnnnnnnty," Harry whined.

"Honestly, Harry! Sometimes you can be such a child," Hermione huffed exasperatedly.

"Mrrrrrrrrggggggh."

The matriarchal Mediwitch lead him back to his cot and tucked him in, tuting the entire way. She shooed his friends out soon after, then gave him the promised Sleeping Draught. "Drink up. It should start working in a few moments."

"Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii gh," he said, to which Pomfrey rolled her eyes at, long used to his antics. Harry gulped down the potion, making exaggerated faces of disgust and gagging.

"Get some rest now, Mr. Potter – and _no_ escaping, you hear me?"

"Yes Mein Führer," he muttered crossly.

"What was that?"

"I love you!" He gave her a winning smile that she eyed sardonically. He knew when not to push.

The green eyed youth settled into his cot as his thoughts started to wander and his eyes became heavy.

Sooooooo, things didn't go quite as planned. At all. But Harry _refused_ to let this little snafu discourage him. There were still two more tasks that he could fuck up in. He would learn from his mistakes today, because _apparently_ people cared more about some pretty little frou-frou special effects instead of actual _skill_. Alright, alright. Fine. He would play their game. He was going to set _world records _of badness for the next task. He would do so bad that even that dick-rider **(4)** Ludo Bagman would give him a negative infinity score. They would see.

As he heard muffled voices shooting questions at Ron and Hermione outside his tent – Fred and George, Neville, Dean, Cedric…some people that sounded suspiciously like Delacour and Krum – He smiled and let out a happy sleepy sigh. If nothing else, at least he got his bestest pal back to talking to him, and if that wasn't worth being hurled into a rock via a dragon's tail then he didn't know what was.

**End Chapter**

**~oOo~**

**1 **Commutatus Borrire – directly translates to (according to Google Translate) change bubble.

**2 **Terra Talitrum – directly translates to (according to Google Translate) ground/earth flip

**3 **Yolo – You Only Live Once. A phrase typically shouted by teens and young adults before doing something tremendously stupid and irresponsible

**4** dick-rider A male who is consistently kissing another man's ass in attempt to gain his acceptance (Urban Dictionary)

**End Chapter Notes:**

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeee! XD Soooo many reviews yaaaaaaaaaaaay! I soooo happy! Thank you all for your kind words. I will never be able to say it enough. How I love you all! I could sing it from the roof tops! :)

Many apologies for the late update, but as I said before work keeps me workin'.

RANDOMLY SELECTED SHOUT OUT TO REVIEWER: **Katzztar**, who couldn't wait to see what Harry would do to lose for the first task. I hope what happened in the chapter was something like you imagined! :)

And so, I bid you all adieu! Hope you enjoyed!

And remember…Like it? Hate it? Tell me about it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: Oh You Didn't Know? Yeah, He's Awesome

**Rating**: T – M

Genre: Humor/Adventure/Drama

**Pairings**: None yet

**Warning**: Some Violence. Explicit Language. SLASH. Movie and Book verse mixed and matched

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. All rights reserved to J.K. Rowling

**Summary**: Remember Goblet of Fire? What would happen if Harry took the filter off his mouth and actually said what he's thinking? Bad things, probably. But it'll be fun as hell. My go at the Intelligent!Harry, Smart alec!Harry situation.

**~oOo~**

**Chapter 5**

When Harry woke up, he groggily took in his surroundings, noticed that he was in the Hospital Wing and not in the tent anymore, and promptly went back to sleep.

The second time he woke up it was next week.

This time around the little Gryffindor was more coherent as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. He turned to the side and was met with a hand smacking him upside the head.

"Owie! Whhhhhhhhhhhy?" he howled pathetically.

Another smack directed from the other side of his bed was his answer.

"That was for scaring us half to death," said a very serious and very frowney Fred Weasley.

"And that was for being stupid," said an equally frowney and serious George Weasley, "_and_ scaring us half to death, in fact –" He smacked him again. "That was for future stupidly dangerous things you're planning on doing."

The twins' grave expressions quickly cast a dark shadow over what remained of the jovial mood. Harry shrunk into himself, wrapping his arms around his injured torso. He stared up at the Sixth Years through his fringe with sad emeralds. "M'sorry," he muttered. He was having a hard time computing all this _worry_ for _him_ in his brain. He didn't feel like he was worth all the fuss.

Against his will Fred felt his resolve to be disapproving rapidly fade away. Kittens and puppies all over the universe were bowing to the small Gryffindor in envy. "Aw," Fred let out involuntarily. Serious façade ruined, he gathered the younger teen into his arms.

"Pussy," George muttered in disgust at his twin, even as he brushed back Harry's hair in comfort.

Harry peered up at him so that only his nose and eyes were visible. "You're not mad at me?"

"No, Harry," Fred sighed exasperatedly. "We were never mad at you. We're just worried because you're so damn…crazy."

"Yeah, and that's coming from _us_." George grumbled. "We never know what's going on in that noggin of yours. It's unpredictable."

"It's annoying as all hell, is what it is."

Harry moved out of the embrace and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. Inwardly, relief washed over him at their forgiveness. "Eh, heh heh. Sorry?"

The twins shook their heads and sighed, deadpanning, "Lies."

Harry pouted, but when his only response were double flat stares, he gave up on it all together. Subject change! 3-2-1 GO! "Sooooo, what's been happening since I've been asleep?"

"Oh this and that," started Fred lightly.

"The entire school pretty much worships you now."

"Thinks of you as their God-King."

"We're trying to get people to say a prayer in your name before they eat."

"So far we've only got a few First Year Hufflepuff's and Gryffindors to actually do it, but it's a growing enterprise, we're in no rush."

Harry stared at the grinning twins narrowly, as irritated as he was impressed by their antics. "Dick move, guys."

"Yeah it was," Fred beamed, George nodding proudly alongside him. "Oh! And the Dragon Tamers have started a cult around you."

"Charlie's the Head Priest, obviously."

"Clearly," Fred agreed.

Green eyes widened as he looked from one twin to the other, praying that this was a practical joke. This was too much to take in after just waking up. "You're not kidding?"

"'Fraid not," Fred grinned. "It's been a bitch keeping them out of here."

"Charlie was worried for his little brother of course….and the object of his worship."

"Wouldn't be much of a priest if he didn't make sure his ickle godling didn't keel over, now would he?"

Harry stared at them blankly for a moment, before saying forcefully, "You two need to tell Charlie that he's either going to rehab or you're telling your mum about this – we are _not_ just going to stand idly by and let him go down this drug addicted road."

From their gaping expressions the twins certainly weren't expecting that response. Well good! They needed to take their brother's condition seriously. Drugs are bad…especially if you can't handle your shit. Harry couldn't afford to be distracted by random Weasley's tripping balls all over the place.

"He's…not on drugs," George said delicately.

"But I think we'll tell mum that anyway," said Fred, straight up back to mischievousness. "He was too rowdy when he came in to visit you."

"Huh…that's evil. I like that."

The twins grinned. "Thought you would," said George.

"Anything _else_ mortifying happen?" Harry sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. He honest to RuPaul _prayed_ the twins were exaggerating about all this hullabaloo. Surely no one could get _that_ excited over some little pipsqueak getting smashed into a rock and then blowing bubbles, could they?

…God…_damnit_.

"Nothing much other than that," George said.

"Although Ronnikins has been going off on anyone who says even the slightest insult towards you."

"Regular Knight in Shining Armor he is, with the way he's been jumping to your defense and tormenting everyone with his big mouth."

"Speak ill of the fair Princess Harry and prepare yourself to face the wrath of Sir Too-Bloody-Loud."

"Take you all night to think of that one?" Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"For you? 48 hours tops."

"Most of the time it just comes to us naturally, though."

"We're a very 'in the moment' kinda comic duo."

"We'll be here all week."

"Tickets to see us are only 10 galleons."

"We're charging you right now, by the way."

"Ughhhh." Harry flopped back in his bed and buried himself under the covers. He was not _nearly_ medicated enough to deal with these two.

"Ah, ah, ah," Fred tutted, poking Harry's sheet covered tummy. "No sleeping just yet Har-bear. We still need to give you the clue for the Second Task."

"Mrrrrrrrrrrrgh."

"Now, now. None of that." Fred continued his poking. Probably enjoying himself too, the redheaded heathen. "You need to hear this. The other Champions are already ahead of you by over a week."

Harry whipped off the sheets at that in order to glare (re: pout adorably) at the older boy. "Good! I don't want to win. The more advantages they have the better!"

"Is that what you're trying to do? Lose?" George said, eyebrows raised in incredulity. "Well, I hate to break it you mate, but if you're trying to lose you're doing a shitty job of it."

"Yeah, that Dragon Fire-Bubble transfiguration was… pretty much the best thing I've seen in my life."

"Yeah, other than the other things that were the best thing ever, that was the best thing ever."

"Pretty much, yeah. Definitely the best thing ever –"

"Just get on with it," Harry said with a defeated sigh.

The Weasley twins exchanged grins of victory before Fred presented the golden egg. "So, Bagman said the clue for the next task was inside the egg – here, the honor is all yours oh great and powerful Champion."

The egg he noticed – now that he wasn't distracted by dragons, bubbles, and his own life juices – was not very impressive. Sure it was…gold and…. big, but other than that…meh. One would think that after risking life, limb, and genitals for an object that the judges would at least snazz up said object up a little bit. Hell, would it kill them to slap a smiley face sticker on the stupid thing?

Harry grabbed hold of the egg from the mischievous Gryffindor. The severe trembling in his hands and arms was the only warning he had before he immediately pitched forward, shocks of pain going through his stomach and back from the movement.

Thankfully, Fred caught him before he could topple off the bed completely, but the egg wasn't so lucky. It hit the floor with a clatter. The groove on the top of the egg split open and then emitted the most horrendous, high pitched, _screaming_ that any of them had ever heard.

His ears pulsated violently as the piercing noise reverberated around the Hospital walls. Involuntarily, he fisted Fred's shirt and let out a pained whimper before clamping his mouth shut so he could stop himself from making any more pathetic sounds.

"George! Shut that thing up!"

George dove under the bed and scrambled with the egg for a bit before he managed to push the bisected egg shell closed.

Even after the Infirmary descended into silence Harry still felt a terrible ringing in his ears that sent needle sharp tingling sensation through them. He held himself taught as waves of pain ran up and down his torso, holding on to Fred for dear life as he panted harshly.

"H-hey hey hey," Fred tried to say soothingly, shaky voice showing his disorientation. "It's ok Harry, just relax alright." The redhead rocked Harry a bit, making circles on his back as he caressed his small fist to coax it open.

"Should we get Madam Pomfrey?" George asked worriedly.

"I dunno – yeah go – "

"_No_…m'fine," Harry dragged out through gritted teeth. He pulled away, still panting but feeling more coherent by the second. "S-sorry 'bout that," he said, smile wobbly but wry. "Jeeze, I g-get real whiney and grabby at the littlest things, eh?"

The twins exchanged a concerned look. "Don't worry about it, mate," said Fred. "I'm the one that's sorry. Should've known you weren't completely healed yet. You sure you don't want us to get Pomfrey? You don't look so good."

Harry nodded as he lay back down. The pain had receded to a dull ache. He suddenly felt exhausted, and it was taking all of his energy just to stay awake.

The twins seemed to notice this, as Fred said, "Then maybe you should get some rest, eh?"

"What about the egg clue thingy?" Harry murmured, even as he closed his eyes and snuggled into his pillow.

"Don't worry about that now. The Second Task isn't till February anyway. Just get some sleep, ok?"

Harry hummed in agreement. Even after a week of sleeping he still felt about as rejuvenated as a 90 year old. So with little trouble, Harry drifted back into the land of dreams.

Fred tucked the blankets snuggly around Harry, causing the small Gryffindor to make a little noise of contentedness and snuggle deeper into his pillows.

"Hey…George," Fred started. He kept his attention firmly on gently smoothing out the blankets over Harry's shoulders. He could barely wrap his mind around what he was going to ask, but he did his best to spit it out anyway. "Do you think Harry's…"

"Suicidal?" George finished, harsh in his bluntness. Fred winced, but nodded. "Dunno. Sure seems like it, doesn't it?"

"Gods I hope not." Fred buried his head in his hands. Just thinking about the First Task; when that huge monster had struck Harry and sent his frail body flying like a rag doll, seeing the little one's broken and bloody form being engulfed in flames – Fred had never felt so terrified, so _helpless_, in his entire life. He'd never known he had cared so much about his little brother's best friend until he thought he lost him.

Which was _really_ stupid of him, the more he thought about it. He'd heard from Ron enough times about all the dangerous shenanigans they had gone through. He certainly didn't freak out when he learned Harry had gone up against a Basalisk and a teen version of You-Know-Who, with only a Phoenix and the bloody _Sorting Hat_ as a means of protection. His only concern had been Ginny at the time. And didn't _that_ just illustrate what kind of person he was?

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder. George peered back at him, a firm resolve in his dark blue eyes that was rarely present. "Hey. We don't know anything for certain. He's always had a shitty sense of self-preservation. He doesn't even _think_ about that kinda stuff, I don't think he knows how, honestly."

Fred nodded, grimacing. It wasn't even Harry's more dangerous stunts that had cropped up this worry over the years. It was the casual way he dismissed any of his accomplishments, the confusion in his eyes when people offered to help him, the way he downplayed all sickness and injuries – these things were always cause for concern in the back of their minds, and he and George tried to address or counter them in small ways, but after the First Task…obviously it wasn't enough. Not even close to enough. "What should we do then?"

"Keep an eye on him," George shrugged, though he grimaced as if dissatisfied with his own idea. "Look for any signs that he might…"

Fred snorted bitterly. "We were keeping an eye on him before and we didn't see any signs leading to _this_!" He gestured to Harry's prone form. The tiny boy had scrunched up into an even tinier ball at the corner of the bed, one arm curled tightly around his torso as if he were still hurting even in sleep. His heart clenched at the sight.

"Then we'll keep a closer eye," George shot back. "Now that we know that he might..." He sighed. "We've been shit friends, haven't we? Cared more about a Gryffindor being a Champion than the fact that there's somebody out there trying to do him in."

"And how it's affecting him," Fred added ruefully. They confronted the rest of the students who thought they had the nads to treat Harry like he was the anti-Christ, and shut down anyone who said a bad word about him, yeah. Of course they did. But the obvious sleepless nights, the loss of appetite, the stress of Ron abandoning him – They both noticed it all, and they hadn't done a thing about it. "Not this time though, right?"

George nodded solemnly. "Not this time."

Not ever again, if Fred could help it.

**~oOo~**

When Harry escaped from the Infirmary (he would be hearing it from Madam Pomfrey later, but he would forget about it and then remember it inconveniently when the time came) it became readily apparent that the twins were _not_ exaggerating.

The school's popular opinion of him had done a massive 180. Everyone was all waving at him and giving him warm greetings as he passed them by in the corridors. In between each class period Harry was guaranteed to hear "Great job at the Task Harry!" and "You're amazing Harry!" and "Have my babies, Harry!"

Someone even _bowed_ to him in the middle of the 4th floor corridor.

This someone just so happened to be Ernie Macmillan, who had been one of the most vocal – other than Malfoy of course – in calling Harry names and making snide comments behind his back.

As the Hufflepuff ranted on about how kick-ass he was and that he'd always known he would make the best Champion, Ron took this moment to snatch the boy's backpack up and punt it so hard that it flew through a closed window.

Harry stared at his best friend with raised eyebrows. _Well!_ Someone was feisty today.

Macmillan shot up from his supplicating position, gaped at the window, then at Ron, then at the window again. Maybe he thought if he looked at it long enough then things would change? It did not. Hogwarts isn't _that_ magical.

"H-hey!" he sputtered angrily.

Ron merely scowled back, shouldering his backpack…and Harry's. Ever since Harry had gotten out of the Hospital Wing, the redheaded boy would not let him so much as lift his spoon. The ridiculous thing was that Ron would probably have done it even if Harry wasn't still injured. "Would you move the bloody hell outta the way! We're trying to get to class here!"

"Ronald!" Hermione said, rightfully aghast.

"Wow, that was a really good kick Ron."

"Harry!" Hermione rounded on him, hands on her hips. "Don't encourage him. He shouldn't have done that to Ernie."

"Well...yeah but, did you see how far that thing went? He kicked it right into the atmosphere!"

Ron beamed proudly. "Thanks Harry!"

But Hermione's glare was starting to spell an hour long lecture in his very near future, so Harry tried to morph his expression into something sterner. "What I meant to say was you shouldn't have done that even though it was cool and you should do it again later."

"Exactly – Harry!"

"You're right Harry. I'm sorry."

"That's ok Ron! You are forgiven!"

Harry opened his arms wide and engulfed his tall friend into a hug, to which he readily albeit confusedly reciprocated. Ron had also been more open to companionable contact aka touchy-feely-fluffyness lately. This worked out great for Harry, as he could be a very huggy person as long as you weren't annoying and stupid.

"I'm starting to miss it when you two weren't talking to each other," Hermione muttered with a hopeless sigh.

"Nope." Harry chirped. "Friends _fo_-evah!"

"What about my bag!?"

"What about your bag?" Ron practically growled. "Want me to kick you out the window to go get it?"

Macmillan must have taken the threat seriously – frankly, with how protective Ron had been lately Harry wouldn't be surprised if he was serious too – because he skedaddled off faster than you could say "Cedric and his tight ass"…not that anyone was saying that anymore. Ahem.

Not everyone had jumped on the Harry Potter's-not-such-a-bad-fellow-after-all band wagon though. Malfoy and his usual following tried to tell anyone that would listen that the First Task was just beginners luck or that Harry bribed the judges or insert Harry cheated in some way here. His jokes and jeers weren't met with nearly as much agreement as before the First Task however, so the pompous blond only declared his genius observations during Potions class and meal times where he had the most support.

Pockets of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs still glared at him sullenly as well. But if they held any value towards their wellbeing or their eardrums they kept their derisive comments to themselves, lest they wanted Ron Weasley to put the hurt on them.

Because apparently between the time Harry had been in the Hospital and released, his best male friend had gone Coo Coo for Raging Psychopath Puffs.

The tall Gryffindor already had 3 detentions for fighting and had lost 50 points for yelling Zacharias Smith into a crying fit.

It did not end there. During dinner Sally-Ann Perks had said, with so much snoot that her name should be changed to Madam Snooty-McBitch-en-stein esquire, that Harry's parents would be ashamed of him if they were alive today and that it was sad how such good people had produced such a lousy liar of a son. Ron's face had gone from normal to _gonna-fucking-kill-you_ in precisely .02 seconds, and probably would've done something Azkaban sentence worthy if Harry hadn't shoved a muffin in his mouth.

A really cute look of befuddlement descended upon the redhead's features for a second before he ripped out the makeshift cork. "But Harry! DID YOU HEAR HER –mmf!"

Harry shoved the muffin back into his mouth. Ron made an indignant noise of protest and glared at him over the pastry, but the small Gryffindor merely patted him on the arm. "Don't worry about it."

Ron pointed wildly at Perks as his blue eyes widened with righteous fury. "Mmmf MMF!"

"I said its fine Ron," Harry drawled in a soothing voice. "She's just jealous because my penis is bigger than hers, that's all."

There was a brief moment of stunned silence, before the Gryffindor table erupted into disbelieving laughter.

Perks' face flushed with embarrassment. She desperately tried to deny the absurd claim, make her own comeback, but everyone was too engrossed in their hilarity and no one was paying her any mind. Unless it was to mock her.

Ron took in all of the laughing students and nodded to himself, satisfied with Perks' humiliation. He settled back into his seat and contentedly munched on the rest of his muffin.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed, the pink dusting her cheeks a sign of her own embarrassment. "There are children present!"

"Don't be ridiculous Hermione. I happen to have it on good authority that 'penis' is the scientific word for dick."

The intelligent witch started to open her mouth to continue her scolding, but one look at the strawberry muffin Harry was casually rolling in his palm had her simply sighing in exasperation.

"Why do I even bother," she muttered.

"What's that you say? You want me to massage your brain?" Without waiting for confirmation to a question she didn't ask him, Harry scooted closer to Hermione and pressed the middle and pointer finger of both hands to her temples, kneading it gently.

"What? Don't be ridicu – hmmmmmmmm…" Hermione fairly melted at the ministrations.

"Yes, that's it," he said in a soothing and creepy voice. Mostly creepy. "Shhhhhhhhhh, it's ok, just let it happen. You don't care what's going on. Just let the good feelings flow bay-beh girl."

The brunette opened one eye and peered at him lazily. "Incorrigible," she murmured.

"Uh huh!" Harry chirped.

And that should have been the end of it. Except the next morning Miss Perks came to Breakfast sporting a new hairstyle that Harry was sure was not voluntary. Her normally long midnight black locks was cropped up to her ears and receded almost to the back of her skull, a 'do more appropriate for an old business tycoon that had hit rock bottom and not young prissy little school girls.

Perks, face contorted with humiliated rage, made eye contact with the Weasley twins, who were the only ones not laughing.

Fred and George looked back at her. There was no humor, no denial. Their gaze practically screamed; "_I __**wish**__ you would try and tell on us…_"

Perks turned away, slinking into her seat as she tried and failed to cover her head with a hat. Part of the Curse, most likely.

The twins' high fived still looking in Perks' direction, before casually eating their food.

Ron's insanity seemed to be catching. Regardless, Harry couldn't keep the appreciative smile off of his face the whole day.

**~oOo~**

That Saturday evening Harry felt it was high time he got some _real_ work done…

In the kitchens. Obviously. Screw the Second Task.

His annual Holiday Cookie Baskets were being made with more efficiency and speed than ever now that the house-elves had forced their help on him. Which was just as well since he'd heard that a majority of the student population had decided to stay at school this year.

Each basket was filled with your basic chocolate chip cookies and treacle tarts, along with a few spiffy recipes he had come up with over the years; Die For You Devil's Food Cake, Rapturous Rocky Road Marshmallow Puffs, Chocolate on Chocolate Action Cookie Bites – just to name a few. Eat your heart out Martha Stewart.

The baskets were decorated simply with festive wrapping tissue and had little cartoon like pictures of owls around the boarder, because owls are awesome and Harry liked owls.

Harry leaned against a counter as he waited for the last batch of cookies to finish baking. He hummed along to the music playing in the room via a Charm he had cast earlier. Aunt 'Tune-Tune never allowed anything so unseemly as allowing the radio on in her kitchen. Oh _yeah_, but a tacky little T.V. stacked on a bunch of old phone books was all kinds of classy. Suuuuuree. Obviously it was a part of their ongoing strategy to make Harry as unhappy as possible while doing chores, especially when they discovered he _liked_ to do this task.

Joke's on them, though. Because Harry found great enjoyment in giving the Dursley's their daily dose of Vitamin Saliva. One can never be too healthy after all.

As a more upbeat song started to play Harry couldn't stop himself from jumping on a table and doing a little jig. Well…he could have stopped himself, if only to spare the poor house-elves their sweet little house-elf brains, but he was bored, and the rest is history…

"_My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard! And they're like, it's better than yours. Damn right! It's better than yours. I could teach you, but I'd have to charge…_" **(1)** Harry sang as he shook what his mama gave him most enthusiastically.

"Milkshakes? Is Master Harry Potter sir wanting milkshakes?" LuLu said, blinking in confusion and turning to her fellow house-elf for guidance.

"Matty... isn't knowing." The older house-elf started to wring his hands anxiously, looking from Harry to the counters and back again. "Should we be asking what flavor Young Master is wanting?"

"Hmph," Winky said, dutifully sweeping up some mess on the floor. "Master Harry Potter is too skinny. He should be eating good healthy foods, not bad fatty milkshakes."

The former Crouch house-elf only continued to grumble as Dobby joined Harry on the table, squeaking a delighted "Milky-shakes!" and dancing along with him.

Just as Harry was really about to bust a move that would send him accidentally flying off of the table, the portrait that served as a door to the kitchens swung open. Hermione and Ron tromped in.

"There you are Harry! We've been –"

Harry stopped dancing and threw his arm out, pointing at his two now wide eyed friends. They must unsee what they saw! "House-elves! Attack!"

Immediately several house-elves swarmed upon the Gryffindors, ushering them out and slamming the door shut in their faces.

Harry blinked. "Huh, can't believe that worked." The house-elves merely beamed up at him proudly.

With a flick of his wand he had all the cookie baskets hidden. He changed the type of deserts he put in the baskets every year and liked to keep them a surprise, to insure things were as Christmasy as possible – his little outburst at Cedric during the First Task notwithstanding.

"Okay, you can let them in now."

Dobby happily opened the door, revealing his two discombobulated best friends still standing in the same position.

Hermione, as always, was the first to snap out of it. "Harry! What's going on? What are you doing in here?" She looked to the house-elves, then at Harry suspiciously, as if he had been ordering them to slap themselves or something.

Harry sat on the table and swung his legs back and forth, giving the girl an innocent look. "I was giving the house-elves a strip tease."

Red rushed up Hermione's cheeks as she sputtered, while Ron groaned. "Awww mate! The imagery! Why would you _say_ that!?"

"Maybe you should think about knocking next time."

Hermione looked like she was starting to hit her exasperation limits. One day she would figure out that Harry was riling her up on purpose so that he could see her cheeks puff up like a cute baby seal. The world would weep on that day. "This is a _kitchen_. We're not even supposed to be in here!"

"Well my dearest curly haired clever-puss, sometimes there are more things than bread and chicken being _made_ in the kitchen…half of Ron's siblings for example –"

"Nooooooooooo! Harry _why_!?" Ron howled in despair, covering his eyes in an attempt to block the trauma in his mind. "I'll never look at mum _agaaaaaain_!"

"Oh honestly Ron, don't be so immature."

"Me!? Harry's the one talking about-about…_**things**_."

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. "Just because they're your parents doesn't mean they don't –"

"LA LA LA LA LA! Can't hear you! LA LA LA LA!"

Harry grinned as his two best pals started to argue, their attention completely off of what he was doing. His expression softened to something warmer and a little reverent. He really quite loved them, he quietly realized. Not even four years ago he would never _dream_ of having people he could love and care for…or that he would live to see the legal age of living on your own for that matter. And then here these two fresh eyed eleven year olds come – all happy and normal and perfect and such – and they don't hate his guts on sight like everybody else and actually give a shit about his existence. He wasn't a weird freakish burden who didn't know when to shut up in their eyes. He was just a…friend. Just Harry.

The dawning realization that he would do _anything_ to keep these two people safe and happy was a little startling. Definitely die for them, probably kill for them too. Like 98% sure he'd kill for them…plus 2%, just to be sure.

Huh. Scary, that.

"…why can't you just respect my feelings!?"

"It's not about your feelings, _Ronald_! It's about you being childish!"

"I'm not being childish! I just don't want to think about mum and dad…gaaaAHHHKK! I can't. I don't want it in my mind!"

"See! Right there! You can't even say it! Such suppression can't be good for you, Ron."

"I'll tell you what isn't good for me! This whole _conversation_ isn't good for me!"

"_Well_! Are you saying that having a conversation with me isn't good for you?"

"What!? No! Are you bonkers?"

"So now I'm _bonkers_, am I? Well maybe I shouldn't help you with your homework tonight since _bonkers_ Hermione is too _bonkers_!"

The evil grin crept back up on Harry's face. He subtly directed the house-elves with a slight cocking of his head to take the remaining cookies out of the oven and package them up. There were easier and nicer ways to distract people, but as a wise man once said; it is our choices that makes us assholes.

**~oOo~**

The Holiday event that had everyone buzzing with curiosity ever since students had been asked to purchase dress robes on their Hogwarts letter was finally revealed on Monday. In Harry's case it was during Transfiguration class.

The small teen stepped into the classroom that was setup most unusually. All the desks had been vanished and the chairs were pushed against the walls of the room. Confused Gryffindors from Fourth Year and up were milling about near these chairs; the girls on one side of the room and the boys on the other.

In front of the chalkboard a gramophone was perched on a low table, its blooming tube like a shiny golden flower and its turntable was polished to a glistening mahogany. Professor McGonagall stood beside the antique device, adjusting the stylus onto a record she had just inserted.

For a dreadful moment Harry thought that McGonagall was having a midlife crisis and was attempting to teach them in a more non-mainstream fashion á la _Dead Poets Society_ or Remus Lupin.

What was actually planned was far, far worse.

"As is traditional for Triwizard Tournaments, Hogwarts will be hosting a Yule Ball on Christmas evening."

Everyone broke out into excited whispers, mostly the girls. Harry was not among them, as he was too busy internally flipping his shit. '_Ball? Ball! As in __**dance**__!? As in two individuals gyrating against each other to hip music relatable to everyday youth!? NO! Not here, too! Not in my happy Hogwarts!_'

"Ah, Mr. Potter! I'm so glad you would like to be our first volunteer!"

Harry blinked as reality suddenly crashed back into him. He whipped around, only now noticing that the boys beside him, Ron included, had taken several steps back, leaving him the only one in front of McGonagall. A waltz was playing in the background. His Head of House had her hand out and beckoned him forward, even as the stern countenance on her face did not waver for a second.

The small teen glared at his treacherous brethren, who did not even have the decency to tremble before his might. "No cookie baskets for you," he barked. Harry's smile was positively dastardly as the grinning Gryffindors face's morphed into despairing expressions. Ron in particular looked like Harry had stabbed him right in the happiness.

Heh, heh. Served them right.

With all the air of someone about to be drawn and quartered, Harry took McGonagall's hand, placed the other on her waist and…

"There now, be sure to follow my lead –"

…proceeded to sweep the Transfiguration Professor off of her feet.

McGonagall exclaimed a soft "Oh _my_!" as she and Harry fairly glided around the room. They elegantly twirled in the three step movements, their robes billowing around them in graceful tartan green and standard student black arcs. All the while Harry's expression was as sullen as if he were getting stray teeth pulled out of an open wound on his knee cap and not even getting a lolli in compensation.

By the end of the song, perfectly on beat, Harry spun his Professor with one hand and brought her down into a dip.

The whole class was stupefied.

When Harry brought McGonagall back up to stand her face was flushed slightly pink and she seemed a bit breathless. Her typically no-nonsense style bun had come slightly undone, causing wisps of black hair to curl prettily around her face. She patted her hair back up to its proper place as she cleared her throat. "Well I…_very_ well done, Mr. Potter. I believe it is safe to assume you will not be needing anymore lessons after this."

Harry scowled in response, crossing his arms and kicking at some invisible dust on the ground. "Thanks I guess," he grumbled petulantly.

"Let's all pair up then, shall we? Don't be shy, now. Arms out like _so_…chin _up_…and 1,2,3 – 1,2,3…yes, yes, just as Mr. Potter and I demonstrated…"

Harry stood off to the side, glad when McGonagall didn't call him forth to participate with the others.

He hated school dances. Hated them with all of his hate.

Harry had a knack for dancing like he did for flying on brooms and catching the snitch; he did it instinctively and impulsively, couldn't stop himself if he tried. This was the case as far back as his Kindergarten years. Naturally, as one of the few boys who could move without stepping on toes or knocking elbows, all the ladies flocked to him like Ron on all foods ever. And without _fail_ their boyfriends would beat him up! From the Hokey-Pokey Tournament to the Winter Snow Flake to the Spring Fling, after those giggling moo cows had finished using him for his sweet moves, all of their admirers and boyfriends and pretend boyfriends would corner him and make a shitty night even shittier – sometimes literally when they decided to give him an old fashioned swirly.

Harry shuddered and twitched at the memories.

When class was over, Harry walked up to Professor McGonagall and declared, "Soooo…I'm not going to the Ball. Bye!"

He made to run away, but the crafty old kitty spoke before he could so much as lift his foot off the ground. "Now just a moment there young man. All Triwizard Champions must open the floor for dancing. I am afraid your attendance is mandatory."

"But I'm not even a real Champion! Doesn't not being real count for anything these days?" he huffed.

Her gaze softened slightly at this, but was no less firm. "I'm sorry Harry, but there's nothing to be done about it. Besides, I very much doubt you will have any trouble finding a date, any girl would be delighted to go to the Ball with you…" her lips quirked up into a playful smile, "if for no other reason than they will be grateful you will not crush their feet."

"I'm more worried about their men crushing _me_," Harry grumbled.

McGonagall either didn't hear him or had learned the art of 'tuning Harry out' from Madam Pomfrey because the wizened witch merely patted him on the head like an obedient puppy. "Now you run along, you don't want to be late for your next class." She turned him about face and marched him out of her classroom, most likely to keep him from arguing more, and then shut the door behind him solidly.

Harry's slumped, completely dejected. He noticed Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville were all standing around him with curious expressions, apparently having decided to wait outside for him.

"What'd McGonagall have to say? You're not in trouble are you?" Ron eyed the closed door as if he were ready to kick it down and give their Head of House a piece of his mind. Harry made a mental note to assure his best friend that bygones have long since been bygones and he didn't need to carry on with this protective thing to prove his loyalty to him. Especially if it meant he was going to run headfirst into what would be an emasculation session.

"No, it's not like that," Harry said morosely. "Bloody McGonagall won't let me skive out on the Ball, that's all."

"Wha – why would you do a thing like that?" asked Dean. They all looked honestly flabbergasted at the sheer thought.

"You're the Boy-Who-Lived, every bird who's not crazy will wanna ask you out," Seamus added.

"And you can _dance_!" Neville exclaimed as if this were some god-like ability only bestowed upon a precious few. Him not being one of them. "Really, good. Like…really, really good!"

Harry waved off their praise impatiently. "Yes yes there'll be a few of them who'll want to go with me for a piece fame, but that's not the point! I hate going to dances!"

"What for? With moves like that I bet you've had girls flocking to you every time," Seamus said, Ron, Neville and Dean nodding along and making noises of agreement.

"I've just had bad experiences ok." The memory of his Iron Man under-roos being pulled over his head suddenly assaulted him. "Very, VERY, bad experiences."

Ron clapped him on the shoulder comfortingly. "Well, that was with the muggles. I'm sure this time around it won't be so bad." Harry smiled at his friend. The taller boy at least partly understood his distress, and for that he was appreciative.

The warning bell rang. The group of boys quickly scrambled down the corridor so they would make it to their next class, though they probably wouldn't be penalized for being late since it was Care of Magical Creatures. Still, Harry kept his pace steady even as Dean, Seamus and Ron started to meander a bit. He always tried to support his humungo pal in his teaching career as much as possible. Hagrid knew his subject, there was no doubt about that, he just needed some experience…and maybe a damn focused syllabus that involved creatures he liked while at the same time _not_ eat the students. Something to add to his increasingly busy schedule, Harry supposed.

He and Neville reached a point where Hagrid's hut and the Gryffidnor and Slytherin Fourth Years came into view. Rita Skeeter and her trusty side kick Carl the Camera Man tromped out the front door. Hagrid soon followed, shooing the pseudo reporter out in his gruff yet polite manner.

Harry twisted around until he was back to back with Neville, standing in such a way that he was aligned perfectly to other boy from his feet to his fingertips like a shadow. Neville, for his part, was a good sport about this admittedly weird behavior and didn't move or even ask what the crap he was doing.

He was completely still and silent, channeling all his nonexistent ninja skills, so when Skeeter and her minion passed them by she didn't even spare him a glance. He pivoted back in place – as if he were one of those swinging doors – and continued walking as if nothing happened.

"Er…what was that about?" Neville asked, understandably confused.

"That, my good chum, was Rita Bad-Hair-Weave Skeeter, and she has been trying to _write_ and _do_ unmentionable things to me, so you can understand I'd rather keep out of her sights."

Neville started and reflexively attempted to look behind him in Skeeter's direction, but Harry stopped him by grabbing his arm.

"No!" he hissed. "Don't make eye contact if you value your manly bits."

Neville was dutifully worried now, and probably had all sorts of frightening thoughts about the Daily Prophet reporter. That was just fine by Harry. Yeah, he was fully aware he was exaggerating, but hey, the woman pretty much made a living out of shamelessly ruining peoples reputations, and Harry wasn't about to take that sort of thing lying down. And even if she wasn't a man eater – or little boy eater, as it were – there was no harm in keeping his friends on guard. Frankly, the whole peacock color scheme screamed Cougar in Harry's ever so humble opinion.

"Erm, H-harry?" Neville started hesitantly, panting a little. The frozen grass crunched under their feet as they jogged the last stretch to make it in time for class. Soon the snow would fall in earnest, and then it would be a race to get into Hagrid's magically heated enclosure as opposed to impending tardiness. "Could I ask you a favor?"

"Sure Nev, what is it?"

"Would you, er – I mean, if you have the time that is – but don't think you have to or anything! I know you've probably got better things to –"

"Spit it out, Nevums." Harry's cheerful smile and the slight elbowing to the taller boy's ribs took the heat out of the statement.

It seemed to relax the shy Gryffindor just enough though, as he finally asked, "Could you teach me how to dance?"

Emerald eyes blinked in surprise. Taking his silence for a soon to be refusal, Neville rushed on. "It doesn't have to be much! I don't want some in-depth lesson. If you could just show me a few moves, like what you did with Professor McGonagall, I'd be fine with that! Or even just how to not fall all over the place I'd…I'd really appreciate it. I mean," he smiled self-deprecatingly, "that's assuming anyone would want to go with me, of course –"

"Sure I'll teach you," Harry interrupted before the poor guy could really start putting himself down. Sometimes Harry thought Neville's whole family could use a good ol' fashioned pimp slap right upside their heads. "And when you dance your lady friend so hard her brain will explode with happiness, I don't want to hear a word about how I helped you at all."

"What!? I couldn't –"

"Ah-BUH!" Harry held up a finger to halt him. "Those are my conditions. Take it or also take it."

The small Gryffindor crossed his arms in determination. Neville shuffled nervously. The budding Herbologist was not one to take credit where credit wasn't due. Harry's gaze was intense, however, and he figured that he would only be browbeaten into submission if he didn't agree. "I-I suppose, but are you sure –"

"I'm as sure as your arms are deliciously muscley," Harry said, poking said arm with a lecherous grin.

Neville squeaked and pulled his arm to his chest as if Harry's finger were made of hot coals.

When they arrived in Hagrid's makeshift paddock they settled next to Hermione. Ron soon joined them just as the Care of Magical Creatures started to take roll, Seamus and Dean trotting up a ways behind.

Much to the relief of all the students, Hagrid only had them record their observations of the Skrewts from their last session. Throughout the period Neville would poke at his biceps and then stare into space with a bright flush on his cheeks. Ron spared his housemate a few odd glances, before asking Harry what was up with him.

Harry shrugged, but couldn't keep the accomplished grin off of his face. Just increasing his fellow man's self-esteem through his pervertedness, one step at a time.

**~oOo~**

**1** Milkshake – Kelis

**End Chapter Notes:**

And so, I finally finish! It was going to be longer – with the Yule Ball and intro to Task numero dos put in – but I figured you all suffered enough.

A bit more fluff than humor in this chap, but as I'm sure you all know I'm a hurt/comfort girl at heart. So! This won't be the last of it.

Over 13,000 views of this story in total! I just want to squee on the highest mountain and hill tops! But, since I like not being fired and homeless I'll simply squee on the inside and mutter a subdued "yaaaaaaaaaaaay, alriiiiiiight" out loud.

**Updates** for this story and past and future stories can be found on my website: www . rurulala . weebly . com. A link can also be found in my profile. Any questions or concerns will also be fielded on the website.

RANDOMLY SELECTED SHOUT OUT TO REVIEWER: **GanjaPanda**. I'm so glad you liked the makeup scene between Ron and Harry. Next to the First Task, this was my favorite scene to write in this chapter.

I know I'm getting a lot of views for this story, so I hope to get just as much feedback as well! Thank you all so so much for the kind words and the continued support. It just makes me want to write more.

And like I always say…Like it? Hate it? Tell me about it!


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